


20 Years In Two Days

by DeathDirt



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fantasizing, Gabe is a Bad Influence, Gay Agenda jokes, Genji Shimada/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler (background) - Freeform, Genji Shimada/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison (background), Implied Incest, Jesse McCree/Genji Shimada (background), M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Penetrative Sex, Reaper eventually softens up, Soldier is Not OK, Time Travel, eventual angry moments, face fucking, its never acted on or anything I promise, these ships are all in the past, too many tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:45:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12063933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathDirt/pseuds/DeathDirt
Summary: Time travel is incredibly irresponsible.Soldier: 76 is incredibly mentally unstable.Reaper is incredibly scared of pretending to be who he once was.------Running a global peace force is incredibly hard.Jack Morrison is incredibly grateful for his boyfriend.Gabriel Reyes is incredibly unprepared to face the reality of his fate.





	1. The First Night; Equal, But Never The Same

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not dead! Irma can suck it!
> 
> Yeah I was literally 10 miles from the eye of this hurricane but I'm ok, and finally posting something. It started as a joke and then... It went too far. Time travel shenanigans. 
> 
> I tried to stick to canon, but decided to say screw it and let it fall into place as I write. It's still pretty adherent to canon, just not super duper close. I hope you guys like this! I love for the comments, so please comment on what you think I can do better! Also yes I know it's a multichap when I have a bagellion others to finish, I know. It sucks. For all parties.
> 
> Also obsessively listening to Bad Blood by Taylor Swift bc I'm pumped af for the Lego Ninjago Movie, SUE ME!
> 
> 1/13 - Sooo... The versions you guys are seeing are basically first drafts, and I plan on going back after I've finished this work to fix some minor things that I noticed while rereading. I'll tack on at the end the dates they were updated, so you know which ones are first drafts and which ones are technically better. I have some cringy writing in here, sue me, don't care, read it. Also this story is really stagnant prior to the conflict coming into play so... be forewarned.

**Eve Of The First Day, 2087 - 47 Hours Remaining**

 

He swore he'd gotten rid of the foot-tapping thing years ago. But apparently it wasn't enough. Or maybe it was, and time traveling bullshit was all it took to bring it back.

What the hell is a man supposed to do when he's sitting alone in his room, debating upon going to the kitchen to gather up some 'supplies', aka a metric fuck-tonne of chocolate, cake, ice cream, and other assorted things that would rot his teeth out if he wasn't a super soldier, when a blue zap has some idiot or murderer or terminator or whatever with a gun and a biker jacket rushing around the room, securing it all, while being growled at by a goth mannequin with the face of a barn owl that made Gabe feel damn near ashamed of himself for even allowing jokes of him being a so-called goth, then snatched, half-naked, a bundle of his own clothes thrown into his arms, all dirty, and then zapped somewhere else that seemed, perhaps dusty and unlived-in, but familiar? And, on top of that whirlwind, all of it is accomplished in the span of...ten minutes? That sounded right.

And he hadn't been given much explanation either. Just the white-haired guy in the jacket - Jack, supposedly, as he'd sworn he was - bawling about "Two days, that's all, two days, it's all I need, please," smashing poor Gabe against his chest when said Gabe wasn't exactly feeling up to this weird-ass Terminator-slash-X Men reboot bullshit. As soon as 76 - for God's sake, he couldn't think of that miserable wretch in the room behind him as his precious Jackie, full of life and energy - had fallen asleep, Gabe wrestled his clothes on, all the tactical gear he'd been wearing for the past three days, slammed the door shut behind him, and then had no clue where to go from there. Yeah, he could start walking, especially since this seemed to be an Overwatch facility, but where would he go? Which Overwatch facility was this? There were dozens, and even if he'd gotten the vague answer of "No more, just this one left," that didn't mean a damn thing. It just meant that for whatever reason, there was only one Overwatch facility he would be in for a while.

But God damn, if that didn't piss him off. Gabe hated not knowing where he was or where anything else was.

So his back was now against the door he'd shut in futile rage a few minutes ago, and he was glaring at his boots when a blessedly familiar sound came clinking around the corner. Gabe would've cried if he didn't have more self-control. And then he nearly did when he saw... _it_. That was Jesse, no doubt, but...

There was no way it was the same kid. He was filled out, not gangly and stick-like, actually thick and healthy and honestly, if Gabe didn't know who the guy was firsthand, he'd probably have thought he was damned sexy with his swagger, his scruffy beard, the dark eyes, the barest hint of a scar peeking out from a near-mattress of leather. Oh yeah, no doubt. Old Ass version McCree was a sexy fucker and Gabe might've dropped his pants then if...well, if there weren't other things pissing him off that Jesse had just distracted him from.

"Nice look, kid." Jesse snorts, adjusting his hat as he looks over the bad decision. "Ain't been a kid for a while, Gabe."

"Yeah well, I just saw you two hours ago in the training range, and you were made out of sticks that got glued together, given a gun, and tossed into New Mexico. I have a right to call you what I damn well please." Jesse raised his hands in surrender, and the corner of his mouth twitched in a lopsided smile. It was the cutest, most puppyish thing Gabe had ever seen. He was going to fall apart soon if this nostalgic twisting of his gut didn't stop. To help it along, Gabriel cleared his throat before he spoke, trying to sound light as he mumbled, "Got this idiot back here going batshit crazy, and I'm sitting here in four-day-old clothes trying to figure out how I'm going to live for two more days in God knows where." Then he snorts and adds, for good measure, "All, of course, in a fully furnished, stocked, and powered facility." 

Jesse nods, sympathetic. He'd warned Jack not to - hell, everyone had warned him, begged him not to, but his mind was going...somewhere. Angela said that this might be alright if she gets some kind of medication to help the old man, though it seemed that he hadn't exactly thought things through. Of _fucking_ course Reyes wouldn't be okay with curling up to be a teddy bear for two straight days, especially not with the date they picked out. He knew exactly which one it was, too. A mission in Mexico, one he'd been on. There'd been some rumors cruising around about claws digging into the Los Muertos gang, enough to warrant some investigation, though nothing specific had turned up. They'd shot up one of their big drug distribution warehouses, at least, plus some smaller outposts. Los Muertos hadn't been all that big then. Still technically wasn't. It was just getting fueled by Talon, which had definitely turned out to be a bad thing.

And now Reyes had been yanked unceremoniously from the entire goddamn time stream or whatever, shoved into place further forward, where his place that he had to fit in was jagged, sharp. Broken. Jesse knew it had to be hell, even for big man Reyes. He was tough, but this was pushing it. "I know it don't feel great, _jefe_. Can't say I've been involved personally in this sort'a thing, but I know ya well enough that I didn't think this scheme'd take." Gabe looks up from where he'd been staring at the wall, his curiosity growing by the minute. "Scheme, huh?"

"You know Morrison." Gabe snorts, shaking his head fondly. He finds it all so difficult to attach that feeling he gets around Jack with that...whatever. Snowtop. If he concentrates, he can hold onto the thought of Jackie, and imagine. "Yep. _Chico de oro_ , running in head first without thinking it all through." He shakes his head again; for a moment, he could see the connection between old Snowie in the room behind him and pretty boy Jackie. Then it vanished in a snap. Because Jesse is now, for some reason, staring at him like he's a freak, and it's making his skin crawl. 

Yeah, prior to the military and all that, people stared at him all the time. Usually to mumble to their kids, oh look children there's a dirty Mexican, he's gonna steal all our shit, but that kind of look never bothered Gabe. This was much different. He wasn't entirely sure how, it just was. Part of it was that it was thirty-some year old Jesse doing the staring. And _hell_ , it's the simple fact that it's thirty-some year old Jesse! "What? Do I look that bad? I got decent sleep last... Whenever I got back." Jesse chuckled and shook his head. He fumbled around in his pocket for a minute before pulling out a mostly-full box of cigarettes. Damn him... One was passed over, along with a lighter, and Gabe took them, though he tried to make a show of being hesitant. So much for "I promise". Gabe took a long draw, almost relieved for the slight rush of nicotine. It wasn't strong, but it was also habit. And tough to break. "Thanks," he muttered. Jesse tipped his hat in acknowledgement.

"Look tired for havin' slept."

"Hey, next time you come back from a ten-month _failed_ sting and then get immediately kidnapped by someone who claims to be your boyfriend, come see me and we'll reminisce." Jesse blew out a sigh, and if Gabe had pinpointed it correctly, it was the kind that meant one thing - boy pining for the last ten years. Having done it himself until recently, Gabe was suddenly great at picking up on it. "Oh? Who is it, then?" Jesse snapped his head up, eyes blown wide. "Wh-what're you -" Gabe just gave him a look - _the_ look - that made it clear he'd see through whatever bullshit Jesse wanted to throw up. Knowing it well, Jesse have up quickly, lowly groaning as a hand ran through his chestnut hair. "It's...somethin' complicated."

"Did you even see what happened with me and Jack the first few months you knew me? I think that's as _complicated_ as it gets, so let me hear the problem, _vaquero_. Or, I guess, the boy crush." Jesse seemed like he was going to start floundering and sputtering in some great indignation, but it seemed as though Gabe had judged him right. Instead of getting riled up - as he had made a habit of doing when someone saw through his bullshit - he just accepted that this wouldn't get through the Gabriel Reyes brand of fine-mesh screen. "Y' remember Genji's brother? Name 'r anythin'?" Gabe had to think on it. But yeah, he remembered. Hanzo. Daddy's favorite, according to Genji. So he nodded, and Jesse continued. "He uh... Joined up. An'..." His Adam's apple bobbed, and Gabe immediately knew what was going on here.

"You couldn't get in Genji's robot ass so you're going for his brother's, huh?" That, oddly enough, was the thing that brought out the angry, snarling dog. Jesse was barely coherent, accent growing thick as he began shouting curses and shifting sporadically between English and Spanish, and Gabe had to look at him and wonder how much of an influence he'd had on the kid. After a good few minutes of angry raving - which was all mercifully tuned out - Jesse calmed, muttering apologies while Gabriel fondly smiled. "I'm guessing I hit it on the money." McCree nodded, almost glumly. He couldn't stand seeing the kid so upset, so Gabe clapped a hand on his shoulder, pushing off of the door. "We're gonna go get wasted, then you tell me about the gay agenda."

"I'd rather not..."

"Too bad, princess, we're drinking because I said so. I'll bust jaeger bombs on your ass if I have to, but you're telling me something before the hour's up."

\----------

**Eve Of The First Day, 2087- 46 Hours Remaining**

 

Jesse had always categorized Gabe's moods when he was young. There were two primary ones he saw as a kid in Blackwatch - Party Boy Gabe and Commander Gabe. Party Boy was his particular favorite, simply because the man loosened up and gave no shit about rank or command or dignity or anything like that when he was in Party Boy mode. He cracked jokes, teased Jesse about every little thing, talked for hours about setting up massive pranks (and actually followed through on some if he got enough alcohol). Party Boy was out now, poking at Jesse at the third bottle of beer about 'the problem', as he'd been calling it so far. "Are you going to homo up and go say something to him or not?"

"That ain't even a thing."

"It is when you can't go talk to your boy crush because you're being a total wuss."

This had been going on since they say themselves down at the bar, though it hadn't been quite so fervent since there had been another patron - Lena - who'd insisted on socializing a bit with who she distinguished to be "Baby Face Reyes" since this was the only chance she'd get. Gabe was a bit weirded out for the simple fact that the new recruit, for him, had just had her first mission in the field all of two months ago, and was now sitting and talking about flanks and stealth and "damn snipers" like she'd been on the front lines for years. On top of the fact that she looked exactly the same as she did in his own time or whatnot, minus the uniform.

Yet as soon as she left, with a cheeky wave and a friendly shout over her shoulder of "Nice to see you Gabe!", Gabriel was launching into the alcohol. He kept shoving it towards McCree, though the cowboy accepted it all easily. Part of it was surely his 48 hour time limit, but McCree was also doubtful that Jack would stick too faithfully to that. His mind was shattered, broken up like glass. No wonder he didn't want to listen to reason.

Suddenly, the line of shots wasn't being pushed towards him anymore. When Jesse looked up, Gabe looked like he'd just witnessed someone murder a box of owls. And for Gabe, that was traumatizing. Which wasn't a look that boded well. "What happened to gettin' hammered? Ain't even buzzed here." Reyes drummed his fingers on the dark wood of the counter, contemplative. Should he ask? Was it a good idea? "Shouldn't this all be fucked up?"

"Huh?" Gabe sighed, running a hand over his face. How does a guy explain this sort of question... "Think about this. I get pulled out of my place, nobody is there to fill in for me... Shouldn't this entire time stream or whatever be totally fucked up? Changed? Irreversibly screwed? I mean... Logically speaking..." Jesse nods and begins tapping his boot on the floor as he thinks. "It wasn't my idea, so I didn't hear most of the technical mumbo jumbo, but I guess it's all interpreted like a code? Winston said that if someone got taken out, an equal someone had to be put back in for everythin' to stay all kosher."

"Equal? How the fuck do you work that out?"

"Easiest way is to use the same DNA, accordin' to Winston. So... You came out, you went in." Gabe rolled his eyes. Because that made sense. In response, Jesse huffed and downed another shot. "I don't claim to know it all that well. I just know that I'm happier with you here and the other you... _there_." From behind the counter of the bar, Gabe pulled another bottle of beer from the fridge, uncapped it, and tipped the bottle back. He didn't understand it at all. Except... Wait. "What do you mean - other me?"

\---------- 

**Eve Of The First Day, 2065 - 46 Hours Remaining**

 

Reaper is not Reyes. He knows it, and he has to keep it under control. Because fucking Jack. His mind was in the gutter. Strewn all over the place. And then somehow the crazy bastard had convinced him that this was what he wanted too. Some days, yeah, this was totally what he wanted. His pretty life-infused blondie, always with a tired smile and bright blue eyes, eager to please. It really didn't matter who he pleased. Something Reaper remembered being very grateful for when they started getting together. But the side of him that isn't Reaper - some shred of Gabriel still left after the explosion and brutal experimentation courtesy of Talon - is telling him that he needs to be in control. He can't let Reaper ruin this before he's even gotten to enjoy it. His younger self. That little...distinction. 

A knock at the door reminded Reaper that he needed to keep up some semblance of his old self. He had to keep up an appearance that he's not an abominable killer with the blood of thousands of innocent wailing souls on his monstrous talons. In a hurry to make himself presentable, Reaper kicks the coat, mask, and black leather under the edge of the bed behind him, then pauses. His fucking long-ass hair. It wasn't so much that he'd grown it out as been far too despondent and depressed to deal with it. And that hadn't hanged because a delusional Jack had dragged him, almost literally in some places, to Watchpoint: Gibraltar to take the place of himself twenty years in the past to cure some of Jack's paranoia. Or whatever the hell it was that was making him damn near insane.

Growling to himself, Reaper began to gather up his long curls in a single fist and rushed into the bathroom. He was clumsy with the razor, cutting himself a number of times in his haste to present himself, cursing, entirely missing the slight hiss of the door as it opened. Just as he dropped the thick bundle of curls into the trash, the bathroom door creaked open. Reaper's eyes darted up and his breath was trapped in his throat. Jack stood in the doorway, hand running through his hair, looking damn gorgeous despite the dark bags under his baby blues. This was back when his hair still retained that bright golden hue, before stress turned it white. The silly blue duster was gone, probably shed on the couch in the next room, leaving Jack much smaller than Reaper remembered. He looked much younger, too.

Jack was moving his mouth, and - for fuck's sake this was going to be hard if Reaper stared every time Jack talked. He cleared his throat, surprised when he didn't have the spawn of Satan come out of his mouth. "What was that?" Jack grins, still looking tired yet infinitely brighter for it. "Just complaining about politicians with heads up their asses. Same old." Reaper has to quite literally bite his tongue to prevent letting loose a scathing remark about Jack being one of those politicians. As Jack wraps his arms around his neck, he finds it easier to remember that this Jack isn't some prideful, blind idiot more concerned with getting on his knees and kissing ass. This one's still young, softer, even if he's seen several years of war and more to come. Reaper sighs and for a moment, he can fool himself into thinking he's Gabriel again. That he can be that man for his Jackie.

He hesitantly lifts his hand up and wraps it around Jack's wrist, concentration focused on keeping himself appear as normal as possible. Behind him, the blonde shivers, taking a half step backwards. "Jesus, Gabe, you're cold as hell. You feel okay? I can run down to the cafeteria and get you something if you want."

"Don't worry about it, Jackie. Just been having a bad day. I..."

"Yes?"

"...Do you mind just getting straight to bed? I'm tired."

 

By God, he's _absolutely_ going to be Gabriel _motherfucking_ Reyes for Jack if it kills him.


	2. The First Morning; Gentlemen, Start Your Sexual Frustrations!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some heavy smut in this chapter I shan't apologize for. And also I suck at writing smut so please try not to be too harsh (v-v;) 
> 
> I'm gonna do my best to update this every Monday, but I might get sidetracked and miss it by a few days. If so, I'll try to put something else out that's kinda long to take its place.
> 
> Another thing is, I didn't revise or check or anything for this chapter since I'm a dingus and am writing this at 6 in the morning so :/ Sorry if it looks worse than the last one.

**Morning Of The First Day, 2065 - 42 Hours Remaining**

 

As expected, Reaper was up before Jack. He was actually never asleep. Technically being dead, though, he was good at pretending to. That was going to be the actual hard part, though, wasn't it? Pretending. Pretending like every little misstep shocked him even though he saw all of them coming a mile away. He may have wanted to change them if he wasn't so resigned to his own fate, and perhaps he was a coward for it, but things simply were how they were. What was the point of trying to change them? More would crop up somewhere else, and then he'd probably be back in this exact situation. Maybe with a slightly different body, a slightly different mind, yet all the same wounds would be there.

Fuck. He can't be this depressed if he has to be twenty years younger for two days.

As soon as Jack starts shifting, Reaper attempts to leave, only to be pulled back by a pale hand curling around his wrist. "Mmn. Gabe-babe...stay. Please," half-asleep Jack begs, his words slurred together since he's not quite coherent yet. A quick check, to be sure he's still human-passing, and Reaper cautiously lays back down, almost shivering as soon as Jack wraps his arms around his shoulders. Sure, he's the dead one, but he's also been forced to watch this beautiful man become one of the world's glory holes, to put it bluntly - a hole to stick a dick in, get satisfaction, and leave the poor kid on the other side totally screwed. 

But this is before all that. Jack is soft. He's warm, he's blonde, he's still got the slightest color over his skin from his time on the front lines... He's fucking cute with his mouth hanging open the smallest bit and drooling onto the pillow while he holds onto Reaper like a toddler holds onto their mother. With some effort that he's ashamed of, Reaper is able to put one arm beneath and around the sleeping Jackie, pulling him close. It's an odd thing, the little possessive wave that rolls over him for a moment. This technically isn't even _his_ Jack. No, his was a white-haired old man with increasing levels of paranoia that his twenty-years-junior self was probably killing. Reaper chuckled at his own fantasy. How funny would that be? Even when he was younger, he was still the ol' cold-blooded murderer, wasn't he?

Jack shifts against him, sprawling across Reaper's chest with all the grace of a drunken elephant. But when he pulls his head up, he's got this smile on his face that Reaper was conditioned to associate with his own mistakes. "What? Did I do something funny?" Jack chuckles and runs an affectionate hand over Reaper's face. He doesn't go to his neck - the embodiment of death was thankful since he might've killed Jack then and there if he had - but the gesture is enough for Reaper to know that this was one of those mornings Jack would warn him about when they first started hooking up. "Hey... You up?" It takes a little time to adjust his voice to the slurred speech of a man not quite awake, but Reaper managed by the time he answered, "Yeah... Yeah, I'm up. You don't sound like you are." Jack laughs, that pretty golden sound and...

"I'm gonna be pretty free today. You wanna try the... The stuff you were telling me about a while ago?" Jack leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the corner of Reaper's mouth. "I wanna make you feel better." Reaper has to wrack his brain for the date to remember and - oh. _Oh_. This had been _that_ mission. The sting on Los Muertos that had technically failed, so Gabe took the Blackwatch team and destroyed about half a dozen of the gang's distribution warehouses and shit just so he could say he did something. Right. ...This bitch of a day was suddenly going to be nicer. Reaper put one hand, very gingerly, since this was still edging on the grey area of their relationship between best friends and boyfriends, on Jack's ass and pulled him a little further forward to rest flush against Reaper's chest. "You want to give me a few specifics?" He rumbled, smile tugging at his lips. Pretending might not be so bad if this was how it went for two nights.

Jack bit his lip, then pushed himself up to glance around the room. Like someone was watching. "Athena, silence the room," he yells over his shoulder, and the AI pings as the task is completed. The blonde sags in what seems to be relief, and Reaper takes pleasure in the fact that poor Jackie had gotten so strung up over someone hearing them. "Um... The bondage stuff. And, I don't know if you're okay with it, but just kinda... Fuck." Jack's starting to giggle, and now he's outright laughing at himself. "Fuck! I can't even remember what the fuck you told me, how the hell do I remember safe words and shit?" It's actually a really bad thing he's saying that, but Reaper doesn't care. Jack's young, he's allowed to have his fun. So Reaper sits up, stretches out a bit, then loosely hangs his arms around Jack's shoulders. "Well. You wanna bottom or top, first off?"

"I'm not gonna know what the fuck to do..." Reaper nuzzled into Jack's neck, giving him a small lick right where his neck met his shoulder. "That's not what I asked." Jack shivers because holy shit that is one hell of a sexy growl Gabe is working on. Or maybe he just _has_ it, so now Jack's feeling a little self-conscious about his own farmer's son voice. "You don't mind being the...?" Reaper is gently gripping Jack's hips, and if he'd take his talons out, he could've felt each individual junction and seam on it. Instead, he tips his head back, baring his neck for the poor hick kid who's never heard of anything but missionary. "You wanna try?" It's all it takes. Reaper knew it would be all anyway, since Jack had always been a cautious sort of top, one who didn't really dominate as much as he did perform the opposite of a power bottom. He'd grow into it though, and Reaper knew it'd take time for himself to get used to that, but it'd be fun. Oh yeah, it'd be hilarious to just blurt out some of his more fucked up kinks now and see how Jack and himself worked out _that_ little piece.

Jack, still very hesitant to do anything, mouthed at the exposed skin with all the fervor of a puppy. A scared puppy. Doing the thing just so he wouldn't have to do it twice. Before he can pull away, Reaper grabs him by the back of his neck and pulls him back. "Bite, Jackie. I'm not going to be anywhere for another 24 hours." When he does, it's more of a graze of teeth on skin, but it's a start. Best place to start, really. "Jackie. Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, don't be so scared," Reaper coos, growl receding into a soft voice that he knew Jack liked, even as the old vigilante 76. He wants to sort of jumpstart this, for his own pleasure really, just to get it over with. The sooner he can warm Jack up to this, the sooner he can have decent sex and while away 48 hours like nothing.

"Hey, look at me for a sec." Jack's so quick to get his head up that Reaper wonders if he's going to get whiplash for a moment. Then he clears his throat, gently running his fingers through Jack's perfect blonde hair as he speaks again. "If you aren't comfortable with it, you need to tell me, _cariño_. Okay?" Reaper pulls the young Jack's head down to rest beneath his chin; it's a gesture that's familiar, and one that had always made him feel like the glorious guardian angel he was named after. Running his hand across the blonde's pale back, he hopes he isn't growling again, because if anything would ruin the mood, it'd be that. "We'll do it slow for now. I can make up a list for you if you want, or we can try some little things out in here. Or, it can wait. Trust me baby boy, there's always going to be time for this another day." Jack squirms a little, just to get his head up. "I... What do you want to try out?"

"Little things, _nene_ , little things. I want to get this first one on the table though. We call it the enthusiastic consent kink. If you want it, you need to say so, and if you don't, tell me. I promise you, I'll stop and we'll break. That kinky enough for you?"

"You're a dick, you know that?"

"Ow, Jack, it's not nice to call your boyfriend mean things. And I'm not kidding about the consent kink. Some are into the roleplay nonconsensual bull, but I want to know you want it. That's important. Especially if you want to go into the BDSM thing, any more than just dirty talk." Jack seems to sort of bask in the knowledge that Gabe is so concerned with what he wants. It makes him feel better about the whole thing, really. Enthusiastic consent it is. "Alright, you win. I'm sorry I called you a dick." To prove it, Jack pecked his cheek, hoping desperately that his blush wasn't very visible in the dim light of the room. Reaper chuckled, affectionately squeezing in an intimacy that he couldn't recall having for years. "Just because you like it doesn't mean you should call me that."

That just earned him a weak punch on his arm. Reaper snickered at the attempt, fully-blown laughter erupting when Jack kept going for it, trying to hit him over and over without much success. "I take it back, Gabe. You are an asshole." Jack seemed to realize his horrible mistake as soon as he said it. He looked mortified at what he'd just brought on himself. "I mean, you said you didn't want to top but I guess a man's word means nothing anymore." Jack couldn't help himself; he almost fell off the damn bed laughing, and nearly took Reaper along with him. It was so domestic, in spite of the fact that they were sitting in a global military base. This was something they used to have in spades - little moments of domesticity that helped them forget that they were genetically engineered non-Marvel branded Captain America super soldiers. 

When Jack was finally able to pull himself back upright and catch his breath, Reaper pinned him right back down with a knee between his legs and resting his elbows on the blonde's shoulders. He looked so damn pretty like this, spread out and ready for whatever Gabe wanted to do. Reaper knew that this was why he'd loved that pleaser attitude. He still did, though it wasn't exactly something he could capitalize on anymore. "If you still feel a little nervous, I'm not opposed to the old-fashioned vanilla sex," Reaper huffed, lowering to nip at Jack's neck, then travel further downward to tease his nipples. Pretty Jackie and his gorgeous chest.

Reaper flicked his tongue over the dusty pink bud, reveling in the tiny mewls he pulled out of Jack from the simple action. He continues to give his undivided attention, licking and nipping and occasionally pulling at Jack's nipple until the slightest brush was making him moan like a harlot. Reaper could listen to the sound for days. If he had more than two, he would've loved to experiment with what made Jackie loudest, especially during a meeting with some dignitaries. That'd be a nice thing to fool with.

For now, Reaper was more concerned with a quick fuck. Or a not-so-quick fuck. They were in a bed, neither had any obligations for a full day that Reaper recalled, and they were damn near naked. This was going to be a soft, slow kind of sex. Lovemaking really. Jack deserved that, especially since the next decade or so of his life was going to be spent falling asleep in an office chair. Why not give it to him now?

Reaper massaged his hands down the blonde's flanks. He placed wet, sloppy kisses on Jack's neck and gently bit at the vulnerable skin. Jack bucked his hips up in a desperate search for friction against his clothed dick, which Reaper was happy to provide. He hastily pulled at Jack's underwear, grumbling as he flung them off and immediately began working at his own. With a lowly muttered curse, Reaper shoved two fingers into Jack's mouth with a simply rumbled command of "Suck, Jackie." 

Ever obedient, the blonde eagerly sucked and rolled his tongue over them. When Gabe brings his fingers back out, they're liberally coated, sliding into Jack's hole easily. Jack hissed at the slight burn, but it was nothing he wasn't used to. Gabe was just moving much quicker than he usually did. Usually, sex was slow, comfortable, occasionally interrupted by an agent of some kind asking for a commander. But this was still foreplay. Maybe Gabe was just really fucking horny this morning.  
Jack didn't mind that at all. Reaper scissored his fingers wide, almost not caring about the noises Jack was making. 

When he deemed the job done , Reaper laid back on the bed and gestured for his partner to come over. Almost as soon as he saw it, Jack was moving, positioning himself on Reaper's lap. He hissed at the intrusion as he lowered himself down onto the thick member. Pain was always part of these couplings, though it was never unwanted. It's started simply as a lack of anything to use as lube during SEP, then sort of evolved into this...kink thing.

Reaper locked his hands over the blonde's thighs, pulling down as he pumped his hips upward. Jack grit his teeth to fight back the loud moan threatening to come up. They were usually careful, but fuck it was hard to remember to keep quiet when Gabe was thrusting right _there_ and it felt so damn _good_. Jack bit his lip and swore that something warm was dripping down his chin in little red beads but could've cared less. His mind was far away from possible damage he could be doing to himself. Such was a perk of having a hot and doting boyfriend who knew damn near everything there was to know about him.

The heat was getting to him, to both of them. It was making sex hot and sweaty and sticky and so fucking great. "You gonna come some time today, Jackie? Or am I not hitting the right spot?" Reaper shifted his hips for a different angle, just enough to strike _that_ spot again. Jack's fingers dug into the meat of Gabriel's shoulders, trying his best to hold onto a few more moments of lucidity. "Y-you're doing fucking great! Fuck!" 

"Go on, Jackie, come on me, I wanna hear it!" Nails dig deep enough to give Reaper little dark marks on his shoulders as Jack's climax hits him. It's hot and warm, to the point that Reaper might not have noticed it if he hadn't watched. Which...may or may not have been his fault, discreetly pushing out a few nanites to fuck with the AC for a bit. It was great sex, anyway. Reaper sighed in what could only be described as utter contentment, and Jack thought it was the calmest, most peaceful thing he'd heard out of Gabriel in years.

\----------

**Eve Of The First Day, 2087 - 45 Hours Remaining**

 

Jesse couldn't quite remember how long he'd been sitting at the bar with Gabe. Long enough to not remember, clearly, and long enough to have spilled some things that he'd regret for the next two days. "I'd love to hear you tell me about this Reaper bullshit, too, y'know. You barely give me two words, then nothing." McCree pulls himself together enough to stumble out, "Can't remember it. I know what 'm gonna tell ya til I start tryin', then I jus' forget. Gonna hafta live with it, Gabe..." Gabriel shrugs, though he's far from satisfied. 

Metal taps come forward and suddenly Genji has slammed his visor on the bar. It's not as shocking to see him as it was to see McCree because of how much less organic material was there to change. Not to say Gabriel wasn't surprised by how Genji looked, he just wasn't floored. Though that was hardly ever anyway. "I see that Jack went through with it." Gabe, well-versed in the manner of a man out for a drink, nodded along with Jesse as he prepared a tumbler of whiskey and slid it to the cyborg. Half-expecting him to hand it to Jesse, Gabriel was pleasantly surprised to see Genji lift it up and down it like a champ.

"All told 'im not ta, Genj. Told 'im it was a bad idea." Genji grumbled, only tapping the bar counter again for more whiskey. As the stand-in bartender, Gabriel was happy to oblige with another hearty serving thrown to Genji. "What'd you get back from?"

"Do not ask. It was far too long, and it didn't help that Hanzo was on it as well." Genji scoffed, then tilted the second glass back as he had the first. He shook his head, though whether it was because of his brother or the alcohol was hard to tell. "He is the king of sexual frustrations if I've ever seen one." Gabe quirked an eyebrow at that. In Blackwatch, Genji was practically pulling himself apart to go after what Gabe swore were his boy crushes. He'd seen the young man try to flirt with Jesse, with Angela, hell, he'd even seen Genji watch Jack in the training range and attempt to not do something. He was one to talk about 'king of sexual frustrations'. 

Before Gabe could say anything about it though, low whispering caught his ear. "If you want something, you may as well join the club! We're all getting drunk back here!" He yelled across the room, much to the astonishment of the two young celebrities. Reaper had sounded like _that_?! No wonder everyone else had been so adamant about not killing him - they all wanted to bone the fucker!

"I'm still underage!" D.Va yelled, cheeks puffing out in indignation. Lúcio snorted, gliding over to join the other three men with the gamer following sulkily behind. "Well, well. _¿Cómo conseguimos a este individuo lindo aquí?_ Because I know you don't come from the same dumpster I scraped this little shit out of," Gabe commented, gesturing to Jesse, who indignantly glared. Lúcio chuckled, happy for a refresher of his Spanish. It was passing, but it never hurt to work on it. 

" _No lo sé, visitante. Vine aquí para ayudar a luchar a boa luta._ " Why not throw him for a loop? D.Va and Genji watched on, unable to join in, but McCree was damn near laughing at this fucking dick-measuring in the form of language. And having fooled around with damn near everyone but Hanzo in his quest to be rid of his own frustrations, he knew Lúcio was gonna be hard to beat. " _¿Quieres intentar dejar a tu portugués en la puerta, chico?_ " Gabe countered easily. " _¿No hay nada malo en mezclarlo, verdad, hombre muerto?_ "

"Muerto? What the hell makes you say I'm dead?" Lú opens his mouth to snipe back at the guy who'd been trying to shotgun him for months, but the words just...died. They didn't come. The DJ found his mind entirely blank, then came back as if he'd never left. McCree guffawed while the others looked on in mild shock. "Toldja it don't come out right." Gabe rolls his eyes, turning to D.Va, who was now feeling quite left out. "Hey, squirt, you want anything?" If anything, this just made Hana more upset. 

"Who are you calling squirt, huh?!" The girl stamped her foot and Gabe was reminded of Jesse. Sixteen-year-old Jesse, not thirty-some-year-old. "If it offends you, then excuse me. But, tyke, I need to call you something, and thus far, I've gotten no name."

"It's-"

"Really, young people these days. They don't have the common decency to give a name to friends of friends."

"My name's-"

"No really, I want to hear when the last time you gave your name to someone in face-to-face conversation was."

"You may as well give up now," Genji advised. "He will push you like that until you stop resisting it." Gabe makes a noise of disbelief in the back of his throat. Wouldn't it be just like Genji to ruin his fun? No, that was Director Petras. "Thanks for ruining it for me, Shimada."

"You are most welcome." 

Gabe rolled his eyes and stooped down to the refrigerator. It took a minute to dig something out, but he managed to find some okay-looking soda to hand over to Hana. She was still pouty from being poked at. Gabriel popped it open for her, regardless of whether she wanted it or not. "Look, if it turns out to be dog piss, hand it back and I'll drink it for apology. It's a tradition thing, needs to be followed. Trust me, I piss off everybody at one point or another. Don't take it personally, kiddo." Well that was reassuring. Being told not to take it seriously by a mass terrorist. Oh boy.

Soldier was going to be cranky when he woke up. 

"Anything for you, _ranito_?" The DJ shook his head, glancing to D.Va before gesturing to the can held in her tiny fists. "If you've got more of that stuff, I'll take it." Gabe shrugged, ducking back down to grab for it. Another moment or two of digging found another three cans, and one was passed to Lúcio. "Your funeral. If it's bad, I'll drink it, but I want to hear the drunken McCree confession now." Gabe turned to McCree, which made the others face him as well. He was just drunk enough to know what was expected of him. He rolled his eyes, but couldn't quite straighten his vision back out. 

D.Va mumbled to Genji, "what's he talking about?" The cyborg shrugged, the. continued with his drinking. It wasn't quite his problem yet so he wouldn't pry. With a huff, Gabe shooed the two kids out - "We are _not_ kids!" D.Va shouted. "I led a revolution for this!" Lú follows - then returns to Jesse and Genji, expectantly tapping his foot. Jesse looks ready to burst into tears, and for a moment the commander wishes he had something to record this with. "I... Gotta big fuckin' crush."

"At thirty years old," Gabriel added, wicked grin spreading. "An' it's...it's on 'is brother." He drunkenly and inaccurately swats at Genji. The cyborg dodges the clumsy gestures, but begins to sway in the bar stool. "He's just so g'ddam pretty, Gabe!" Jesse slurs out, fast and incoherent, grabbing onto the other's hoodie. "Got'he pretty noble lookin' face, he's always got this thing-on when 'e works out wit' half his chest showin', al-gotta be li-like you, frowneyin' and actin' like 'e's mean, it's drivin' me crazy!" The cowboy forcibly pulls Gabe closer, which he allows. The commander sighs, patting Jesse's back as he continues to mumble things about Hanzo.

Until the man himself walks into the room. 

Jesse and Genji are both immediately sitting ramrod straight, no expression on their faces, quickly turning back to their drinks. The archer barely acknowledged Gabriel - he hadn't been part of the conversation about this, so he wanted to stay as far away from it as possible. He was silent as he moved behind the counter, clinking bottles aside until he found the sake. And rather than simply pouring it out, he just grabbed the whole bottle, going out as he had come in. 

How in the fuck did Jesse like _him_? He supposed he shouldn't talk, given that Jack was A) his best friend, and B) his CO, more or less, but Genji's brother seemed like the kind of prick that would throw other guys for a loop and knock them on their ass for thinking they could be with someone of their "status". Maybe he shouldn't complain. Not his time after all. But at the very least, he got a confession out of him.

...Which may or may not have been videoed and sent out to half or better of the Overwatch personnel. Oops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 17:27 9/18:
> 
> I'll be perfectly honest, a lot of the pre-sex banter at the start of this is just random crap I threw together. If someone thinks they can make it better please say so, I feel like it may be weird and incorrect.


	3. The First Morning; Trauma and Drinking and Mental Illness...Oh Boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one actually got done on time! :,D,,, Also, the title is kinda...suckish. Sorry ://// Just excited to get this one out there! I think it's a bit longer than the last chapter, so hopefully it's not too lacking

**Morning Of The First Day, 2065 - 41 Hours Remaining**

 

It takes a little while to get Jack to let him leave the bed, even longer to figure out what he should be wearing because it's been years since Reaper's had to dress himself daily, then he's scrolling through a holopad as he walked through the halls of the Zurich base. He barely even understands half of what he's reading, having forgotten most of Blackwatch's special brand of code they used to word all their reports. There's a lot he's forgotten about Blackwatch, actually. Agents in black walk by, waving or nodding their heads, and they should be familiar. Reaper should be happy to see them.

Instead, he grunts a response because he can't even put names to faces. Hell, he can't even really gather up all the names. Reaper starts to slow his walk as he comes upon Jesse and a few Blackwatch agents. There's one blue uniform there, but it leaves quickly, face red with shame. What's he... As soon as Jesse starts putting his hands everywhere, it's pretty damn clear. So Reaper decides to slam his hand on the wall beside them, pushing all three agents to attention. "Y'know Jess, once you start shooting at them, the bad guys tend to not care so much for spread legs." He doesn't hold it against the kid, even now. It's how he'd learned to deal with people, and - what was it, two years? - wasn't nearly enough time to knock it out of him. He even did it the first time he witnessed the terrorist known as Reaper. Tried to entice him with promises of a warm body and a warm bed. And had Reaper fallen for it, he'd have gotten a bullet between his eyes. 

Soldier wouldn't have had anyone to go swap with his younger self too. Everyone would've loved that. Reaper hadn't been present for most of the discussion about the technicalities of time travel - for obvious reasons - but when Soldier had practically snatched him from the small tactical base placed in the slums of Moscow and explained rapid-fire, rambling about how it was too much, all too soon, Reaper had simply given in to the insanity.

That was then, though. Time to focus on the now. The past, technically, which everyone claimed to be so terribly awful. Well guess what, therapists, you tend to focus on the past when you're stuck reliving it for 48 hours. 

"R-right..." Reaper grinned, cocky for a mere moment before recalling that his teeth were one of the things he couldn't really control the appearance of. He could, just not as easily or at-will as the rest of his body. Before anyone could ask if he'd been filing his teeth or something, Reaper snapped his mouth shut into the more common Reyes-brand frown. "Shouldn't you three have shit to do?" McCree rolled his eyes while the other two stood at attention. It was mildly annoying that McCree insisted on being a testosterone-fueled idiot, but he was always like that, the bastard. "I thought today was the standard twenty-four hour rest period. Which it is," McCree snaps back, obviously tired despite how eager he'd been to give the two agents some 'reprieve'. Reaper snorts at him, still leaning with his hand on the wall.

"It is. But, there happens to be the issue of a mission overview and report that's going to be needed from all of you dumbasses. And if I have to write all this shit on my day off, so do the rest of you." McCree began to sputter and growl, indignant as a hen who caught a hand reaching into her nest. Except the only thing Reaper's taking from him is time. And, in an almost reactive way to keep himself in check, Reaper almost regrets saying what he does. 

In twenty years, Jesse's going to be wandering as an outlaw. The two agents are just as likely to be dead as not. Jack's going to be running around as a vigilante. Genji's going to be struggling after a singular omnic that he's latched onto instead of three or four people at once. But that's not his problem. His job is to kill them, not sympathize. Something pings on the holopad, and it takes every ounce of willpower Reaper has to pull it up and check it. He knows it's Director Dipshit-Petras ordering the report from the Los Muertos sting. He doesn't want to bother writing it, but he may as well. "Forget it," he mutters, stalking off. "Enjoy a day of freedom." _One of the last you'll ever have,_ he thinks bitterly to himself.

The two other agents sag in relief, chuckling off their commander's wild mood swing as just him being tired, but Jesse doesn't like it. Yeah, Gabe could go from calm, blinded horse to a raging mustang in less than two seconds, but this was different. He'd been cocky, sarcastic - not much different than usual - and then taken an abrupt downward shift after telling them to do their jobs. Gabe wasn't like that; he wanted someone to do their job, he'd say it unapologetically, then leave to let them to do or not do their work at their own bodily expense. Jesse stood, tipping the wide hat to the two buddies who waved right back, then started after Gabriel. 

Reaper wasn't moving terribly fast, so it was easy for the kid to catch up to him. As soon as he got close enough, Jesse gingerly placed a hand on the man's shoulder. Gabe was still some kind of drugged-up superhero after all, and it wouldn't be the first time he smashed someone into a wall because he didn't expect the touch. That, however, had been Gabe. Reaper, on the other hand, was desensitized to physical sensations. Not only did he have a limited sense of it on his body, being dead and all, he also had fairly regular visits with Talon's dirty lab-coats to check him for nanite malfunctions, mental disruptions and the like. And several had gotten _far_ too hands-y with him far too many times for Reaper to notice particularly if someone touched him - or shot him, for that matter - if he didn't see it.

This did nothing but disturb Jesse since, rather than turning on a dime with fist raised to counter anyone who dared breathe near him, he just kept on walking. "Uh...boss?"

"Move it, kid. I'll take care of the fucking report." In reality, he'd basically planned to B.S. the whole report since he couldn't tell what was what from half of what was written by the three other agents. Relying on shotty memory wasn't the best idea, but it was better than nothing. "You okay, Gabe?" Okay? Okay?! Fuck no he wasn't okay! He wanted to crawl back to his room for the remaining forty-ish hours left, except Jack was fucking in there. And out here, he was too old, too far removed, to dick around with Jesse and Genji and Lemon and the other agents without being so obviously out of place that he'd blow everything. If he went out, he'd start getting that insatiable craving to feed on the souls that surrounded him. So no. No, Reaper was not 'okay', in fact he was liking this whole thing less and less as time crawled by. 

"Fine," Reaper growled, eyes fixed firmly onto the holopad's soft blue light. He didn't want to think about what Jesse was probably trying to do. Didn't care. Just moved right along as if he really was fine, and not struggling with each step.

\----------

**Night Of The First Day, 2087 - 43 Hours Remaining**

 

By this point, both McCree _and_ Genji were drunk, and Gabe was having the time of his life with the two kids, Hana and Lúcio. It'd taken a while to get their names, but after he started introducing them to what he had since dubbed "The Drunken Pleasures of Shimada and McCree", they'd been quick to forgive his past - er...future? - misdeeds. Now all three children giggled as McCree swayed unsteadily against Genji, who wasn't faring much better, even with support from the wall. "So, boys, how're you feeling?" 

Genji, as if taking a cue, stumbled to the ground, holding his plated stomach as he retched. Nothing came up, so after a moment of hesitation, the three younger agents busted their asses to laugh Genji and McCree both redfaced. "Shuddup!" McCree grumbled, unsteadily pulling Genji back to his feet. "'Is is whatcha get fer not talkin' when ya wante' ta bang ev'ry fuckin' agent..."

"Aaas if you were 'ny b...better, J'cree."

"He tried to...what?!" Hana stared at the usually austere cyborg in disbelief, jolted out by a snorting Gabe. "Are you kidding? If I hadn't kept an eye on him, he'd have been the Blackwatch whore. Just keep in mind, kids," Gabe added, gesturing to the two stumbling former black ops agents as they untangled themselves, "Don't get drunk if you aren't prepared to be taken advantage of." Hana giggled, but when she glanced back, she began inching closer to Gabriel while McCree started fumbling at his belt. "He's-"

"They're fine." Gabe pulled the hefty six shooter from his own belt to show it to the two younger celebrities. "And playboy here left his weapons at the bar," he quickly added, briefly waving towards Genji. Hana snorted, crossing her arms as she looked over the two drunks. "I don't think Zennie'd let him do anything," she casually mentioned. "Yeah," Lúcio added, "if he hurt anybody while he was drunk, I think Zen might give him the silent treatment. He _hates_ that." Gabe quirked an eyebrow. Zen? Zennie? Did Genji finally consolidate his crushes? Or was this just another one on the list of Agents Yet To Be Fucked?

"Who's Zen?" 

"L-leave my master out of this," Genji managed, immediately falling into a hiccoughing fit. Hana waved her index finger like she would a naughty child. "Too late, lover boy! You know Zennie doesn't like when you get drunk, so you already have one strike." Genji just groaned and ran a hand over his face. Though it was rare to know when the ninja was upset, it showed now. Without his faceplate, it was much easier to read his mood, Gabe mused. Usually he had to pick up on half a dozen little body quirks to figure out if Genji was pissed off or bitchy or whatever on a given day. "So who the fuck's Zen?"

Hana shrugged, which wasn't so much helpful as it was annoying. "Genji's omnic B.F. He's still in denial, though," she smugly informed, waggling her eyebrows in a suggestive motion. "Omnic and boyfriend in the same sentence... Mmf." 

"What? You don't approve?"

"I don't have to. I grew up in the same time everyone was told omnics deserved nothing more than to become scrap metal. I lived through it, and it doesn't bother me, it's just...difficult to associate. If you get what I'm saying." 

"Sure we do, old man!" The DJ playfully chimed in. He gave Gabe a light punch to the bicep, since he seemed to have been brought down a little from talking about omnics. "I don't give two shits for Vishkar-" Gabe and Hana both fake-gasped, to which Lúcio rolled his eyes. "-but I try to get along with Satya. Y'know...their best architect." Vishkar, huh. The name was familiar - some kind of company in India raving about something they called hard-might technology, or something of that nature, all of which Gabe was quick to dismiss as scientists raving about possibilities because of a freak accident. 

Speaking of freak accidents, there was still the matter of Genji and his consolidated infatuation...

 

\----------

**Night Of The First Day, 2087 - 41 Hours Remaining**

 

"What is it, Gabriel?" Angela bitterly growled through a sleepy haze. Just like every sane person in the Watchpoint, she'd been wholly against the ludicrous concept of time travel for nothing more than a few days of relief, and ultimately had been ignored. Which she had hoped meant she wouldn't be involved. Yet with the _old_ Gabriel - or perhaps the young Gabriel, one could say - there had been no such thing as peace, and apparently there _would_ be no such thing until he left.

"Hello to you too, Miss _Compleja de Dios_. So sorry to wake you at such an inappropriate hour." Like hell he wasn't. He had the biggest fucking grin on his face that made him look more like a Disney villain than he would in 20 years. Which was saying something. "I just brought a friend along who had something to say to you." It's been a while since Genji started drinking, but Gabriel had been steadily fueling him with more alcohol over the past few hours to keep him fairly drunk. At this point, the poor kid would have a hell of a hangover in the morning, which Gabe kind of regretted since that meant there was that much more time he wouldn't be able to spend with the kid during his limited stay. And, y'know, the whole 'half or better of his bodily systems are robotic' thing did make him feel kind of bad. But he had to milk this thing while he could, because Snowie sure as hell wasn't making much of an attempt at hospitality.

Angela puffed up in spite of the dark circles under her eyes, clearly upset at being woken at such an ungodly hour. That's what she got for not realizing she had a young-ish super soldier within twenty miles of her. Gabriel slid to the side and pulled Genji by his arm to stand directly in the doorway, still drunk as fuck and barely able to stand on his own. With a stumbling and falling McCree beside him. " _Mein Freisse_! Gabriel, what have you-"

"Angie, Angie, Angie," Gabe condescendingly chided, "if anyone knows how to keep these idiots from doing stupid shit when they get drunk, you know it's me. Now, Shimada?" Genji looked ready to throw up, hence why he was pointed towards Angela and not Gabe. The good doctor didn't exactly appreciate it, but it wasn't like she'd never been vomited on before. Not even the first time she'd be vomited on by this particular patient. "D-Docta' Anngel... I... I've al-always...h-had fan-" Genji held a hand over his mouth which caused Gabe and Angela to both take small steps back, but the cyborg seemed to have choked it back down, because he kept right on talking. "I've all-ways thought y-you'd look ni-nice in a... Inabikiniwhileyouoperate!" Genji did puke this time, but he managed to sidestep and get it on the wall rather than the still-sleepy Angela. Or Gabe. ...Gabe might've been preparing to kick the shit out of Genji if he'd been the target.

"Well, now that that's done." 

"Gabriel, what is the meaning of this?"

"Oh, in the spirit of my manning up and telling Jack I like his dick, I'm making these two drunk-fucks confess their own boy-toy crushes. You're actually his fourth, after Jesse, Jack, and me. The kid has a type." Angela huffed, looking quite irritated with Gabriel's immature behavior. She was too old to deal with this a second time. Just because he was out of his own timeline shouldn't have made him such an incorrigible asshole, but, thinking on it, had he really ever been anything else? Even back then?

Unfortunately not. No, Gabriel had always been like this - immature, mischievous, sly - before... _No. Angela Renate Ziegler, you are a doctor. This is not the first patient you've lost._ And yet this was the first one she'd lost that had come back. All of a sudden the hallway was quiet, having been filled with Gabriel's resounding laughter a moment before, and when Angela looked up, she saw that Genji, Jesse, and Gabriel all had her fixed with the same concerned look. "What seems to be the problem?" She haughtily demanded, but her wavering voice and wet cheeks didn't lend themselves to much authority. "Angela, did I catch you at a... _military_ time?" That had been their special way to denote a mental breakdown or anxiety attack or any otherwise trauma-caused episode of anxiety or violence. Mostly the only people who used the phrase much were Jack and McCree, but that was probably why Gabriel was asking. "No... No, I'm fine. I won't intrude on your fun, and I know you're only here for a short time, but..." _Please don't become Reaper. Please don't hate Jack. Please remember that we're here for you. Please just..._ "Don't stay awake too late. McCree and Genji aren't graced with your enhancements." 

She knew it was weak. Gabe knew it was weak. He also knew better than to push. So instead of being a snarky asshole, he nodded, somber and sympathetic, then gathered up McCree and Genji so that he could deliver them to their respective rooms. McCree was easy - Gabe was able to dump him off almost as soon as he started walking. Genji, however, was a little harder to place. He used to like taking rooms far away from everyone else, but after checking all the typical would-be Genji spots, and getting some choice words from a fucked-up blonde Aussie who had to be pulled back by Lúcio and some giant of a man that would rival Reinhardt, Gabe was damn near ready to tuck the cyborg in at the bar with a note to be left alone. 

Instead, halfway there, he was stopped by an omnic. It was an odd looking one, but that was coming from a man used to these things having big guns, giant metal plates, and a will to kill. This one had down-turned slits for eyes, a little grid of gently glowing lights on his face plate, and from the waist down he was clothed but...not touching the ground, either. Interesting. When it saw Gabriel, it let out a soft gasp of surprise (fear?) and floated forward. "Greetings," the omnic began, "You must be the famed Gabriel Reyes." Famed, huh? What the hell did he do in the next twenty years? "More or less," he grunted. "I see that you have helped my student while he is incapacitated. If you would like, I may remove the burden of his body from you."

"Nah, I'm just trying to find where he sleeps. Kid hardly weighs anything."

"In that case, if you would follow me, I will gladly show you to his lodging." The omnic was actually quite polite. It didn't speak very rushed or panicked, which really helped set Gabe at ease around it. There was a melodious quality to its voice that was damn near therapeutic. But even with all this, the night of fun, the drunk confessions, the two little-big shots, something wasn't...clicking. Everyone seemed scared of him but Jesse and Genji. And apparently this omnic, but it didn't seem the type to be fazed easily. Then Angela. She'd burst into silent tears halfway into the little prank, and she'd tried to pass it off as military time, but Gabe was better at reading people than that. Something was just wrong. Nobody seemed to trust him. They all acted like he'd explode like a ticking time bomb in a split second. It felt strange. Yeah, he had a temper but... Nobody ever feared him like _this_ because of it.

Something with warm light edged into his vision. Instead of reactively flinching, Gabe forced himself to tilt his head, looking at the little ball floating at his shoulder. "You seemed troubled, my friend. If you allow it to, this orb may soothe some of your worries. It is clear to see that you carry a heavy burden on your mind." Yeah, he could say that. Not the least of which was now the thought of some scary version of himself, twenty years from now, having something to do with Jack. _His_ Jack. The one he'd just spent the last ten-ish years pining over because he couldn't work up the fucking balls to say "Hey Morrison, I like men, specifically you, do you wanna fuck?" What the hell does he become? 

What kind of monster erupts from him?

The omnic slowed to a stop in front of a door. Gabe looked it over, and it wasn't much different than any other door, but he trusted the omnic enough to let Genji fall into the cold arms. Cold to Gabe, who was naturally hot-blooded anyway. "You want the..." Gabe trailed off, grabbing the orb as gently as possible to bring it to the front. The omnic shook his head, somehow able to smile with just his voice. "Keep it for the time being, my friend. You may yet require its function. If you wish, return it in the coming morning. Good evening." 

"Thanks. It helped, by the way. The orb." The omnic bowed - as much as it could. "It is no trouble." Right. Trouble.

\----------

**Morning Of The First Day, 2065 - 41 Hours Remaining**

 

 _No._ No no no no n _o no no no no no **no no no no, NO**_. This can't be happening. It can't. No.

The whole room's been destroyed. Reaper doesn't know what's what. First, he'd panicked. He'd been doing that a lot more lately. Then he got mad, and frustrated, and sick of all the shit. Shit he couldn't remember at the moment. 

He shivered in the corner of the room, huddled in a ball as he looked out at the damage he'd done. Everything had come undone in a single moment. Claw marks were littered across every surface. Cracks in the walls where he'd punched them. Flipped tables, smashed glass, shredded paper... It was a fucking mess. And the worst part was that he still wasn't fucking over it, and the minute somebody walked in, everything was fucked. What room was he in? Fuck if he knew. There wasn't much he could focus on except his own ragged breathing.

A knock on the door made Reaper fall over himself to crawl away. He trembled within the hollow the overturned couch had created. He didn't want to be seen. Didn't want to talk. He didn't want anyone or anything to see him. Because the minute they did, he'd have a fucking depressive episode, just like fucking always. The same pattern, every time. Stimulus, pissed off, lash out, destructive anxiety attack, depressive episode. Easy fuckin' peasy innit?

Whoever walked in didn't have any particular words to say about the state of the room. They walked around a bit, inadvertently crushed some glass beneath their silently treading feet, and then finally crouched to peer beneath the sofa. Reaper had his eyes screwed shut, palms digging in, forcing them to remain actual hands and not god damn claws. "Gabe?" No, no, he's not...not coming out. No way in hell. "Gabriel." Fuck that. Fuck no. He's gonna wake up soon. Soon, then it's over, right? 

Whoever had walked in sighed, silent for a moment before they launched into a calm tone as they repeated, over and over, "Your name is Gabriel Reyes, Blackwatch Commander. You are thirty-six years old, physically strong, and you have an odd fetish for the color black. You have suffered a panic attack. You are fine." It was apparently enough because the panic began to recede, slowly but surely. About ten repetitions of this same little group of words had somehow brought him down from his panic, tight chest, sick stomach and all. Distantly, he thought he wanted to thank whoever had done this - Sombra, since she was usually the professor of "Keeping The Dead Man From Killing Himself 101" - but once he looked down, he realized that he was still...in the past. It was actually Genji. Fucking...Genji?! The kid who wasn't much better than himself? He looked tired, yet relieved. Reaper grunted, motioning for the cyborg to move, then crawled out by himself. Once he was out of the safe dark space, Reaper could properly assess the damage. It was not pretty.

Genji stood, stoic as always, but something like fear or worry was buzzing around in his eyes. Reaper tried to make himself not care, but these things are just... Natural. Genji, sure, twenty years from now, he looked better, acted better, had an omnic monk he'd protect with his life - that one Reaper had found out personally - but this Genji, all the wires and tubes connecting his neck and back and bodily systems, Reaper still saw him as the scared, fucked up kid who'd nearly gotten killed by his brother. He still had some base mother hen instinct to care for him, even when he needed it more for himself.

"Genji. What do you need?" Though he certainly didn't mean it that way, Reaper felt his voice made him come off as the most insensitive prick he'd ever heard. As if it was an inconvenience to be saved from a double hit of mental issues. "I...heard you. As you destroyed your room." It was his room then? Better than someone else's. "It was a technique my... Something that my brother did in times of great stress and anxiety. He would repeat these things to himself until he could regain control. I thought that...perhaps..." _It'd keep you from going too far._ Right. Good Samaritan Shimada. That sounded wrong on too many levels. Reaper tried to stand, but his legs were shaky. They buckled almost immediately, and he would've fallen face-first into shattered glass if Genji hadn't caught him. "I can take you to Doctor Ziegler, if you'd like."

"No. No, just...pretend you didn't see this. Move it. I'll be fine." He wouldn't be fine. Never in a million years would he be fine because in a million years, he could still be _alive_. Random thought, but he knew it was a possibility. As much as he didn't want it to be. Genji was still incredibly worried, both for his commander and for himself. This kind of thing wasn't unheard of, for Reyes to fly into some uncontrollable rage or attack or what have you and destroy an entire room if he wasn't stopped, but this was the first time Genji had witnessed it first-hand. And it was eerily similar to how he lost control of himself. It was scary.

Despite being told to leave it be, Genji still stooped down, stubbornly staying put even at Reaper's pleas for him to leave. He'd been in a similar place too many times to leave him alone. Too many things could go wrong.

After a while, Reaper just let it go. His voice was too hoarse, for whatever reason it may be, to speak for more than a few minutes. "Don't tell anyone," he mumbled. Nobody needed to see this, least of all Jack. He was the one Reaper was the most worried about seeing such carnage. It wouldn't be the first he'd seen, but it'd be the first he saw of Reaper. 

Something that the shade didn't think the poor blonde deserved to see yet.


	4. The First Night; The Commander's Not Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap this took an awful amount of time to finish. It went through a rewrite too, which took even longer. I'm going to try to get the next one up at the right time, but no promises because I'm gonna be playing Overwatch a HECKUVAH lot for the Halloween event. Gotta get dem skins man!
> 
> Anyway, enjoy, also Soldier finally makes an appearance

**Night Of The First Day, 2085 - 40 Hours Remaining**

 

The communal area was dead. It was odd, to Gabriel. He was so used to there always being a few agents around, goofing off or chatting or having a good-natured arm wrestle and everything in between. Silence was just too strange. So for the millionth time perhaps that night, Gabe wondered, as he sat tentatively on the worn fabric of the couch, why there weren't more. More... _anything_. 

No agents were in the hallway sniggering at the drunk Jesse and Genji. Nobody around to laugh alongside at Genji's drunk confessions of romance. Not even a single soul to sit with him or be within twenty meters of his sight. Silence was one thing - it meant that nobody knew where he was, and that Gabe was capable of being entirely at an advantage - but simple alone-ness was something else, especially for a super soldier with spatial awareness to rival a dog. It made him uneasy, even more so than he would've been under normal circumstances because he didn't know _why_ there wasn't anybody around. _Why_ wasn't anybody running drills? _Why_ wasn't anybody doing paperwork? _Why_ in the fuck was everything so barren and quiet and empty and abandoned?!

The creak of metal made Gabriel glance down. Oops. He'd started to squeeze the little ball, and now there were finger-sized dents dug deep in the metal. That's what happened when you lost your train of thought as a genetically engineered piece of war machine. Exhaling through his nose, Gabe placed the orb on a side table and fell onto a sofa cushion. He wouldn't sleep. That was guaranteed. One of those other side effects nobody told you about when you volunteered to save the world. Hoo-rah, right? Gabriel sighed again, lightly banging his head against the back of the abandoned sofa. Why did everything feel so cold? Lack of people? Or was it because he was away from... 

Someone huffed as they sat down, weight just barely enough to make the adjacent cushion sag. Gabe peaked an eye open to see Angela, hair disheveled and eyes bloodshot and still wearing a pristine lab coat like she usually did. Good to see that some things hadn't changed. "Something keep you up, doc?" Angela shook her head silently, hands trembling as she tried to tame her hair into something a little more appropriate. She quickly gave up on the endeavor and settled with rubbing the heels of her palms on her forehead. "I'm worried, Gabriel. I suppose you're as good to tell as anyone, since you will be the one most affected by it..." _Oh boy. What's the ten ton hammer today?_ "Jack may be mentally unstable, but _he_ is so much worse."

"Is everyone going to keep fucking dodging around that? At this point, I want to figure out what I'm doing in two decades so I can beat my own ass for doing it." Angela managed a laugh despite how morbid the situation actually was. This was before. Gabriel only wanted to do right, in his own way. He didn't know or care about Talon. He was...he was Gabriel. Strangely enough. "If we could tell you, Gabriel, we would. It's an intricacy of the whole shenanigan. If something would change what you know in some dramatic way, such as who you are in this time, the knowledge simply becomes nonexistent until we stop trying to recall it. As Jesse so eloquently put it," Angela straightened and did her best bass voice, though it came out tinny and strained, "The universe is a piece of lazy _asno burro_." Gabe joined her in good natured grinning and snorting at her lackluster performance. "As if everyone didn't know what it meant," she added, rolling her eyes.

"Of all the things, somehow that surprises me," Gabe mutters, shaking his head and still grinning. "What's that?"

"Jess. Sure, the getup - I can't even get him to take the damn hat off for five minutes - but for some reason I thought he'd just quit after all was said and done. I guess that's wishful thinking on my part, but all the same, I expected him to have a husband and a couple kids by now. Instead of..." Gabriel trailed off, eyes now wandering until they landed on one of the many Overwatch insignia scattered along the wall. "Instead of following in my own footsteps." Angela cocked her head. "How so?"

"Let's follow - bad kid kicked on his ass to figure out that he's an idiot, go into military to straighten out because he can't do jack shit otherwise, stays in the military because there's nothing left outside of it..." Gabe rested his elbows on his knees and blew out a sigh. This felt more revealing than it should've been. Angela knew what was going on, knew what happened to him. He was just spouting nonsense. "Forget it." 

"No. You're not wrong. And it's good that you want to tell me." Angela laid a tentative hand on the younger man's shoulder, and in turn, Gabriel refrained from flinching away. "I'm glad you're worried about Jesse. It's...refreshing." Should she try to direct him? Angela had half a mind to tell Gabriel to just search for his name on one of the holopads, leave it at that. And she still thought she should. But her train of thought was cut off by a rough hand jerking Gabriel away. 

He grunted, tried to pull back, and was just hoisted into the air by his hoodie. "Hey, what the fuck!" An arm curled around his waist, now the only thing holding him upright. "Jack, stop this right now!" Angela jumped up, seething as she followed Soldier the few feet he'd gone. Gabe froze in place, unable to breathe or move for a solid ten seconds, which allowed the soldier to carry him without much resistance. Angela, perhaps realizing her mistake, briefly paused, but was quickly back to her pursuit of Soldier. "Jack Morrison," she growled, taking firm hold of his jacket, "you put that man down immediately. You've caused him enough harm by bringing him here, the least you can do is let him be." Soldier growled right back, like the faithful dog he'd so often be likened to. 

Angela seemed to puff up like a bird at being so leisurely dismissed. Then she was suddenly running off in the opposite direction. It was Gabe's turn to growl, shouting down the hallway after the retreating blonde, "Great fucking help, Ziegler!" On the not-so-bright side, Soldier had used his other arm to keep Gabe in somewhat of a sitting position, which was at least marginally more comfortable. If still unwanted. 

Gabriel growled, digging his nails into the leather of Soldier's jacket. The arms around his waist and legs tightened to a painful degree, but if the soldier wouldn't let up, than neither would he. "Gabriel," Soldier rumbled, still keeping his tight grip on the younger man. "Settle down." Wrong choice of words. Gabe still had his temper. "Settle down? Settle _down_?! Why don't you fucking settle your ass in a grave! Pick me up like a two-cent whore and tell _me_ to settle down?!" Gabe smashed his elbow directly into the visor, slight grin edging onto his face at the satisfying sound of cracking. Soldier stumbled, but stayed upright, squeezing a little tighter around Gabriel. "Gabe," he grumbled. Soldier slumped against a wall over Gabriel, and for a solid minute, Gabe swears his heart is going to stop. 

The reality is suddenly on him that this is supposed to be Jack. His pretty blonde Jackie. But this isn't pretty, nor is it blonde. This is scary. Because this supposed Jack is holding onto him tight enough that he probably can't get away, and he's not concerned with taking 'no' for an answer. It didn't matter who you were, that combination was _not_ okay. 

Soldier's head jerks up and away at the sound of heels clicking towards them. Gabe uses the opportunity to kick him squarely in the stomach. It's enough to make him release his grip, and the younger scrambles out from underneath the older. Angela is peeling back a piece of fabric from around the soldier's neck. "If you can't control yourself, Jack," she muttered, yanking him to his knees and quickly administering some substance via syringe, "I'll do it for you." Gabe was still leery as the white-haired vigilante turned to apparently glare, though it was only for a moment. He sprinted off in the opposite direction, quickly ducking into a door near the end of the hall. 

"Thanks," Gabe bitterly muttered, pushing to his feet. "I'm sorry," Angela replied. Her eyes darted up, asking for unspoken permission to look him over. Gabriel rolled his eyes and stalked away. "Good to know," he mumbled under his breath, patting himself down for a pack of cigarettes. He needed a smoke. Badly.

\----------

**Night Of The First Day, 2085 - 38 Hours Remaining**

 

A quick raid of Jesse's room yielded an old pack of cigarettes probably a few years old. Gabe didn't particularly care. He'd have taken one of McCree's endless supply of cigars if he really had to - he didn't have _that_ much of a conscience. It was slowly slipping as it was. Gabe looked up at the slowly brightening sky, focusing on the varied golds and oranges slowly chasing away the dark of the night. Night was always calming to watch come and go. It reminded him of an old story his _abuelita_ told him as a child.

She'd said that the sky turned bright in the morning because the people were happy to see the sun return, and the deep pink and violet in the evening was because the people were giving happy farewells to the sun as it left to rest. Crazy old woman. Gabe wished he'd listened to her more. Useless wishing, since she was dead along with the rest of his family. The Blackwatch Commander sighed, taking another drag on the old cigarette. He'd lost track of time, perhaps on purpose, so when someone opened up the door to come out on the smoking patio, Gabe was fairly unresponsive. 

"Well well. Guess they weren't wrong. You _did_ look better." Gabe huffed as he turned his head to see what amounted to a raver chick. Bright violet leggings, dark hair dyed purple, a grey and mauve jacket or coat, and a deep lavender smirk that fit the rest of the costume perfectly. "So who're you? Overwatch's party host?" Sombra snorted, clicking over to snatch the cigarette from Gabe's hand. "Do you even know how old these are?" If she expected much, Sombra would be disappointed; all she got was a mildly annoyed grunt. "Not too old to be bad." Gabe slipped another old cigarette from the smashed pack and lit it with a lighter he'd found on McCree's night stand. He needed to stop smoking too. Gabriel, at least, had super soldier healing to keep him healthy. 

"You look better, but you're still pretty pitiful," Sombra teased, pulling up a collection of screens. For a moment they sat in silence, Gabe smoking and Sombra tapping away at her holos. "So what's the problem, _jefe_?" Gabe made an ugly snort, shaking his head. "What isn't the problem these days?" He takes a slow drag, blows the smoke from his nose, and glances over to the door the girl had presumably come from. The "problem" was any number of things. Genji's wiring getting frayed in the middle of combat. Jesse accidentally shooting a fellow agent in the arm. Jesse losing half his arm in a collapsing building Gabe could've kept upright. Half of his team's dying in the span of three months. Having to tell himself that he won't get a phone call one day from someone telling him in the most monotone voice possible that Jesse was dead. Watching Jack slowly degenerate into a miserable wretch of a human being because he was nothing more than a doll for the UN to throw around. What even was the real problem?

Sombra lightly sighs, pouting as she runs over the meager information on Gabe at this particular age. Nothing she didn't already now. Fantastically short temper, unhealthy drinking and smoking habits, black ops. Nothing new at all. Boo. "I don't know, Gabi. What's got you so mopey, huh?" That was another question with an infinite number of answers. "Jack is going to turn into a psychopathic old man" was the main one. "You tell me," he grumbled instead. Sombra grinned from the side, happy to re-induct Gabriel into this happy cycle of irritation. "Well, your boyfriend's not within twenty years of you, your favorite kids are going to be asleep for the next few hours, there's several nations already gunning for you. Should I keep it up?" Gabriel growled over his shoulder, but Sombra giggled. "Ooh, aren't you just a spunky dog? That'll change," she laughingly teased. Gabe, however, seems less amused. "I'll bet," he mutters, thinking again to the soldier, how he'd so easily just...picked him up. Like a little girl.

And to do what? Surely nothing good. If Soldier's doing that, then what's the twenty-year-senior replacement doing? Gabe's mouth goes dry with the realization, but, as he sulkily reminds himself, he's helpless to stop whatever's happening in the Zurich base. "Hey," Sombra reprimands, flicking the almost-depleted cigarette out of the Blackwatch Commander's mouth, "Don't do that. Listen - you're only here for about forty more hours, right?" At Gabe's hesitant nod, she continued, "Then why don't you make it count? You work down low. You know what works. You know how to make the most of things. Don't you?" Without waiting for a reply, Sombra haughtily turns and saunters away, leaving Gabriel in his silence. "Trust me Gabi," she calls back, "You only got so much time. Better live it. Or else you're gonna lose it."


	5. The First Day; More Alcoholism and a Wrench In The Works...Maybe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell in a hand basket. I'm sorry this took forever. Between school, fkin depression taking over bit by bit, and my current creative slump, I've been so...SO unmotivated to write. I feel really bad about it but at the same time...there ARE other things more important than this. As much as I wish it could be otherwise, I just gotta tend to other responsibilities before this. And it's not like I don't know where the story's going - I have a point A and a point B but nothing in between...
> 
> TL;DR I suck and didn't write, writer's block, short chapter, drama.

**Morning Of The First Day, 2085 - 36 Hours Remaining**

 

Time has essentially become negligible. Gabe can't really tell where he is or what happened because for fuck's sake having legitimate mental stability issues was hard to handle sometimes. All he can make out is a pale gray ceiling, a few LED lights softly humming a few feet out of his vision. There hasn't been a day in the med ward like this since SEP, when every other week, every single soldier was throwing their guts up. One hand curled into a fist and, though muted, the crinkle of sterile paper sounded much louder than it should've. The lights also seemed much brighter. Everything seemed to be spinning. Gabe groaned, sluggishly lifting his hand to dig the heel of his palm into his forehead. He tested his other hand, found it untethered, and dragged his palm from his jawline to rest on his head.

Rampant alcoholism, right? 

 

\----------

**Morning Of The First Day, 2067 - 38 Hours Remaining**

 

Mental breakdown aside, the first morning wasn't technically all that bad. Thankfully, Genji had held to his word because Angela didn't come straight for him, which was a definite plus. Reaper wasn't in the mood to incapacitate a doctor right now, especially not that one. Doctors in general were a touchy subject, but Angela always seemed to know more than she let on the few times they'd met on the battlefield. The first time - shortly after the attempted dispatch of Soldier: 76 and Ana in Cairo - Mercy had gone from pale skin to bright green in a matter of seconds. The next encounter, she actively shot at him, and while he ducked behind a crate to avoid unnecessary - if pitiful - damage, he caught her trying to scoop up the tiny drops of blood her meager weapon had managed to squeeze out of him.

If only that was the only thing he had to avoid... 

Jack kept trying to find him through the morning, and Reaper was running out of excuses to stay away. Despite having wanted to be so near him this morning, something was suddenly making him very sick to his stomach at the very thought of Jack. And the vomit of a half-dead man was not something pleasant to smell immediately after breakfast. So first it was a check-in with Genji. Then, twenty minutes later, it was that Jesse needed to be notified of a spontaneous appointment with Angela that'd take a while. 

And now Jack had almost cornered him in a hallway, his booted feet echoing ominously in the sterile light as Reaper drew his hood up for no reason. In some way, he hoped it would hide himself, but there was no way he could hide when it was a lone hallway, empty except for the two commanders. Or rather, commander and terrorist. "Gabe," Jack called, picking up the pace. Reaper pulled the hem of the hood tighter over his face, willing the smoky patches to solidify. For some reason his form just didn't want to stay consistent, and it was about to be a problem. "Hey, Gabe!" 

Reaper quietly turned the next corner and flowed into a floor vent. As Jack turned, he opened his mouth to say something, only to be met by an empty hallway. "Gabe?" Jack cranes his head around to look down the other way for his boyfriend, but nothing. The blonde huffed, a little miffed at how much Gabriel's avoiding him. The day didn't even start that terribly. Great sex, quiet cuddling, then...this. Being avoided like a clingy teenager with smallpox. Jack rolled his eyes, huffing out a sigh before turning on his heel to leave. He had to get caught up on paperwork, much as he would've preferred burning it, and wandering the base looking for Gabe was more an excuse to not do it than he really needed right now. 

For his part in it, Reaper was glad that Jack constantly had paperwork to do. The heavy desk work, for once, was a hell of a blessing. 

\----------

**Morning Of The First Day, 2067 - 32 Hours Remaining**

 

Thank God, he doesn't see Jack the rest of the day. Especially because his attitude has taken a total one-eighty from the morning, from enigmatic high to the most depressed low Reaper could remember. Granted, he barely had the will to remember three days ago, but nevertheless. Nothing seemed to make this charade worth keeping up. Yeah, so what if Jack's still as cute and as handsome as Gabe remembered? So what if it was nice to _not_ have everything totally fucked from dawn to dusk? In the end, he'd still be blamed for Overwatch coming down, Jack would still be the slandered image, and everyone else would get their happy ending. 

Reaper stirred from his trance at the prompting of a staticky voice. Everything sounded like static when he degenerated to smoke. Everything felt like that too.

"What?" He rasped, wincing at the scratchy sound. "Captain Amari wishes to speak with you, Commander. She requests your presence at your soonest time." 

"And I guess that gives no accounting for convenience," Reaper muttered as he formed within the dark mass he's made of himself. The black cloud settles slowly, then just as carefully reintegrates itself with Reaper's bodily form. If the AI sees him, it'll be a little easier to eradicate and hide than if it were another person, but it was extra work he didn't feel up to doing. 

The halls were oddly quiet as Reaper plodded from Blackwatch side to Overwatch, then to Ana's office. The soles of his boots thudded against the flooring, as did one or two other sets, but past those one or two, nobody passed him along the way. It was odd. 2085 Overwatch was very bare-bones with staff, probably a dozen agents that kept up the training range and facilities, so if this was then, there'd be no cause for concern. But twenty years back, there was no shortage of applications for the most menial of jobs offered at Overwatch. Overqualified, under-qualified, field agent, janitor, it didn't matter. 

Reaper half-kicked the door to Ana's office open. Hers wasn't as big or detailed as Jack's or Gabe's, but it was an office, and Reaper didn't like it any more than he liked the Talon council halls. It was, however, much more homey. There was incense burning on a shelf, just barely enough to stave off the musty smell of a room left tended to dust for too long. Pictures dotted the room here and there, not quite enough to be as annoying as a typical office mafia who was trying their best to convince everyone that they _weren't_ capable of firing you with a flick of the wrist. 

Ana was sitting at her desk, upright and poised as always, clearly waiting for him. Which was unsettling, to say the least. Ana never really felt threatening, even before becoming essentially immortal, but when she asked specifically for him, it was like being a child all over again. Everything bad or inordinate that he'd done in the past few days came to him in that moment, but there was no way Ana would know half of the bad shit Reaper's done. Yet. Sooner or later she's catch on.

"Gabriel."

"Ana." The woman smirked, pushing a few stray raven hairs back into place. "Some cold you must have, Gabriel. You sound like the walking dead." _If you only knew,_ Reaper thought, amused. Ana gestured for him to take a seat, which he accepted with more implied gratitude than he'd shown anybody in a long time. "What is it, then?" Reaper impatiently growled. Blind as the rest of them were, Ana was not so easily fooled. Even now, long before any of Overwatch's real problems started. Promptly after her supposed death, now that he thought of it.

"You seemed a little tight the past day or so. So I thought you'd appreciate some good news." Good news, huh? Bound to be more like the ironic shit in bad comedies. "The Los Muertos mission wasn't as much a failure as you assumed. Someone got in touch with us and began to hand us leads to several of the gang's more vital organs. Think you and yours have had enough R & R?" Reaper huffed. Some news. A failed mission was a failed mission, no matter how badly.

"You'll be leaving in four hours. Hope you don't mind another round trip." As Ana chuckled, walking out of her office, Reaper froze, stuck to the chair beneath him. No, he couldn't leave. He couldn't fight. If he fought, if he was out on the battlefield, he'd get out of control. People would die. Innocents would die (not that he cared). They couldn't... She couldn't... Although Reaper shoved his way out of the cramped space and bolted down the hallway, he couldn't find Ana. 

They were so fucked.


	6. The First Day; Numbers, Numbers, Names, Names...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for how long this took. I got stuck for so long trying to figure out story, and then motivation went away, and then I couldn't find the ability to write and... Le sigh, y'know? But to compensate, this one's pretty long.
> 
> EDIT: I just realized that there's some implied incest in this and I'd like to apologize for that. I for some reason didn't see it when I first wrote it but I've updated tags and added this warning for your benefit. It's never acted on, it's mentioned, but it's still technically implied. Sorry!!!

**Morning Of The First Day, 2085 - 34 Hours Remaining**

 

Angela had not wanted to let him go. She'd tried to convince Gabriel to stay in the ward for a few hours longer, but it didn't matter. Gabe knew he was fine, knew he'd probably chugged down all of the alcohol on base in his quest to forget. It was probably just a whole lot of ugly emotions. Hopefully nobody saw him. 

For now, he rested on the roof of the main building, legs dangling off the edge like he would fall any second, even though he knew for a fact that there was no way he'd kill himself before getting a damn week with Jack. Despite the bullshit, he was going to have sex with Jack at least twice, then find a cliff to jump off of, and not a minute before. 

Genji was suddenly at his side, but at this point, Gabe was too entrenched in his thoughts to think much of it. "Why have you come out here? It is cold, and dark." Gabriel sighed, still looking down at the tablet he'd been staring at for hours now. "Thinking too much. What're you doing? I thought the cold wasn't good for you." The cyborg sat carefully beside his old commander. It's been so long since he last dealt with Gabriel, and not Reaper, that he doesn't quite remember how to gauge all of his emotions and reactions as well as he used to. Nevertheless, it's clear to see that he's troubled, if not outright upset. "You know how many agents I lose every mission?"

"Does it not average at two to three?" Gabe nods, then turns the tablet for Genji to look over. "Look at this. Casualties, Overwatch compared to Blackwatch." Genji takes the tablet, skimming through the information. He knew a lot of the numbers already. Burning curiosity had made him learn them all by heart long ago. "Look at it. Look at how many Blackwatch agents were lost, Genji." A hurt tone is taking over the Blackwatch Commander's voice. If Genji didn't know him better, he'd almost think he was about to cry. Or maybe he was.

"Look at the fucking numbers. It's casualties by percentage of the initial strike team per mission." Gabe pounds his fists on the cement of the roof, cracks spider-webbing outwards. He's distraught to the point that Genji wonders if he should do something to calm him. "Mission BW-120, seventy-five point nine percent casualties. BW-210, fifty-eight point eight percent. 099, seventy-nine point fucking six! What the fuck?!" Gabriel's hands grip his head to perhaps keep it from spinning off. Reading the numbers was bad enough, but telling them to someone else, even Genji, made the reality a thousand times harder. So many lost. And to what? Gabriel could finally pinpoint what, even if it wasn't much use since all the files he'd been able to find had been of missions he'd already been through. He knew that Blackwatch was much more high risk than Overwatch. Everyone did. It was the global equivalent of the Marines, if not a touch more brutal. But this? This scale? This was beyond anything Gabe thought. 

Drained and tired, Gabriel stood, quietly, as though he were no more than a shadow. "Where are you going? Commander!" As the man walked away, Genji wondered what had prompted this sudden surge of interest into old statistics.

\----------

**Morning Of The First Day, 2085 - 34 Hours Remaining**

 

Soldier rubs his eyes. It was a long night, lots of bad decisions were made, and he really didn't deserve to sleep so well. He didn't. He did something horrendously irresponsible, something that probably gave him a one-way ticket to the seventh level of hell, no refunds, thank you very much. Whatever Angela had given him had fucked something up too. Though he can't say she shouldn't have. He wasn't thinking right. Too much alcohol, too many drugs, all taken in the course of about an hour. Which all apparently equaled getting the balls to grab Gabe and carry him to his room to ask to fuck and getting drugged even _more_ in the process.

There's a knock at his door. Probably Hana with some kind of news about her stream or something. Or maybe Angela back to chew him out. Soldier feels everything in his body drag as he pulls his body upright, sways for a moment, then rights himself to get to the door. Even his steps seem sluggish, but when the door hisses open, it's not at all who he expects. "Gabriel?" He slurs out. Gabe does his best not to flinch away, reminds himself that he knows for a fact he can take this guy one on one. For all of Jack's brilliant aim, he sucked at hand to hand. "Hey," Gabriel answers, feeling much more tired than perhaps he should be. Part of it, he knows, is because he's so close to Soldier, who's shown himself to be just on the other side of the border into crazy country. In some aspects, Gabe's in the same boat. But he knows how to keep the boat above water. "Uh..." _Great fucking choice of words there Morrison. "Uh" is all you can think of?!! You god damned idiot!_

"Got anything clean for me? I'm not exactly thrilled with wearing the same clothes I wore to kill at least a third of some dusty Mexican gang." Soldier shook his head in jerky motions, retreated back into his quarters, and quickly reemerged with a clean shirt, boxers, and sweats. "Uh... Don't wear the boxers if you don't want to, by the way. Just-"

"I know how to dress myself, _puta_." Soldier's so surprised at the jagged edge to that voice that he flinches away. Gabe yanks the supposedly clean clothes out of the other man's hands and starts to stomp off, but Soldier stops him before he goes too far. "Gabe! Wait! Can..." Gabriel turns his head back, just enough for Soldier: 76 to see his eyes, and mother of God if it doesn't take everything he has not to break down. Swallowing thickly, Soldier continues, in a scratchy voice, "Can we talk when you get done? I'm sorry for what I did earlier. I just want to talk to you." With a noncommittal grunt, Gabe keeps right on walking towards the showers.

\---

This was a night that reminded him of being a teenager, when his relatives were trying to force themselves into his home for the inheritance left after his parents died. One of them - a cousin, he doesn't remember which - was always trying to pretend to be someone else, always trying to 'hola stranger' him to the point that it was creepy when he finally realized that the last six girls who flirted with him were all the same person. The only upside to _that_ little horror show was that she was so far removed from him genetically that he didn't even know she existed. God, he had to sit in his bathroom for two days straight until the maid finally came to coax him out. Damn he misses that woman. She did her best, and even if she had her own family to take care of, she always tried to clear a bit of time to spend with Gabriel. And then he fired her in a fit. Which was stupid, since Maria was the only person who was with him on a regular basis other than his tutors. 

That probably also contributed to his horrible social manners. Thankfully, Jack had helped him smooth out in that aspect. Speaking of Jack...

Gabe _really_ didn't want to do this. He's been standing here in front of the Soldier's door for the past ten minutes. Trying to convince himself somehow that he doesn't _have_ to go in. Yet he knocks on the door in the impulse that suddenly grips him, telling him to get it the hell over with sooner rather than later. Like coming to ask for the clothes, it takes a second for Soldier to open the door, and when he finally does, he looks tired with the way his figure sags. "So. What are we talking about?" Gabe asks in short, clipped words. Very no-nonsense. Soldier squirms in silence for a second, unsure of what to say or do. Although he'd been the one so terribly sure this whole thing would be alright, he clearly didn't have any clue about how to handle it; he hasn't had to deal with this kind of stiff professionalism in years, and he's harshly reminded of why he hated it so much.

"Come in here, I can't talk to you like this." Gabe scoffs, but he does as he's told. The sooner Soldier got done talking, the sooner he could get back to whiling away the next thirty or so hours. "What, _viejo_?" Having his back turned is probably not the best idea right now. It's making his heart beat a mile a minute just thinking about what could happen. But he can't look at the damn vigilante, because that would imply that he cares about what's going to be said. "Could you sit down somewhere? I don't want to-"

"You'd better fucking feel like doing it this way," Gabriel snarls as he twists around. "Because I'm not in the mood to deal with your assaulting dick head right now." Soldier: 76 almost snapped right back with _I'm not the one in tight-as-fuck clothes every other day_ but before the first syllable even comes close to escaping his mouth, he knows that it's an asshole-ish, abusive, and stupid thing to say. So he schools his attitude into something more manageable and conversational - something he's definitely out of practice with - resolving to try to be less of a dick. "Okay... Alright, I deserved that."

"You _deserve_ castration, but life's all about disappointments, isn't it?"

"That too. Look, can I... Can I apologize to you? Talk? Just between you and me?" Gabriel's hand strained against the thick hoodie, the only thing he refused to relinquish to the automated washing machines in a far off corner of the base. Did he want to listen to this guy ramble for whatever reason? Did he really want to sit here and risk what could possibly be considered a panic attack (not that he'd admit that)? Apparently he did, because Gabe, with all his silent fury about being made to do this, plopped his ass down on the single dust-covered couch in the room. Soldier hid a grateful sigh at the younger man's reluctant compliance. 

"Okay... Okay." He needed a moment to gather himself before he could speak, or else it'd come out much too fast and much too soon. "Alright. First things first. I'm sorry for what I did last night, both bringing you here at all and trying to..."

"Fucking assault me." _No! Gabe, I-I wouldn't do that to you! Never! Gabriel, please!_ he wanted to plead, drop to his knees and just cry into the young Commander's knee. The very thought of doing so made his heart quiver, but rather than outwardly reacting, he simply swallowed, took another breath to soothe his racing heartbeat, and rolled right along. "Yeah. That. You have a right to hate me after that whole shit-show, so I'm not looking for any 'I forgive you darling' bullshit. I just wanted to say it so it's not..." Soldier gestured vaguely towards the ceiling. "Up there, and so you can go back to enjoying yourself with the other kids." Gabe managed to snort. "Kids, huh?" 

Soldier rolls his eyes. It's not like he's as young as he once was. "Yeah. Kids. They're your age."

"Oh yeah, I'll bet that the girl's in her fifties alright. She looks great, being an average human being that hasn't been chummed to shit with nanites." Soldier can manage a laugh at that. It's not like Reaper wasn't a sarcastic shit-head, he was just on way less friendly terms. Soldier actually finds that despite being an ass for the past twelve hours or so, he doesn't regret this as much as he thought. "Hana? Come on, she's at least sixty," the soldier jokes right back. Gabe rolls his eyes at it yet laughs. It's still strained, still hard to pull all the good vibes together, but it feels a little more...natural. "Anyway. That's all I really wanted. You can go do whatever, since you don't smell like a half-rotted bear." 

"I'm sorry, but how in the fuck do you know what that smells like?"

"Living in ass-backwards nowhere, Indiana, that's how." Gabe snorts again and starts to laugh, but he remembers he's supposed to be pissed off. He still is, if he's truthful. But it's...it's not, but it's Jack. Old and creepy and probably fucked up in the head, yet Jack is still clearly there. His sense of humor is, anyway. "Alright white boy, humor me." Soldier shakes his head, reluctantly sits next to Gabe - he waits for a sign to get up, but Gabriel waves for him to get on with it. "Okay, ass-backwards Indiana..."

\----------

**Morning Of The First Day, 2067 - 34 Hours Remaining**

 

"Alright," Reaper breathes out, "Just debrief. No different than Talon. Just...do it." He's about to have a panic attack because he has to _lead_ a Blackwatch team. A team where he recognizes more faces than he would like to admit. He spots at least half a dozen Talon plants in this group alone, and in the hours leading up to this mission, he's seen at least ten others. The itch to kill them all is lying beneath the skin, clawing at his rational mind, but he has to resist. He can't or else he risks...too much. There's no telling what might happen if he kills them all now.

Reaper takes a deep breath, then nearly bites at whoever makes the poor decision to put a hand on his shoulder. His head snaps around, just to soften his expression at the sight of Jack. For as scared as he is of this young golden child, he still feels his heart melt at the sight of him. "You gonna be alright, Gabe? You've been acting funny." The concern on his pretty-boy face is too inappropriate. "Should I get O'Deorain?" Moira. Reaper knows that although she's joined Talon recently, she's still not one of their worms. She's like Sombra, if Reaper thinks on it. Only with Talon for her own benefit. So maybe it _would_ be better to have her around... 

No. No, she'd recognize what was wrong. She wasn't stupid. She'd been the one to revive him from the Zurich bombing in the first place. Reaper shakes his head and starts to pull away. "It's fine. I'll manage." Jack looks unsatisfied, but there's nothing he can do about it. He sighs, then places a regretfully short kiss on Reaper's cheek. "Okay. Just don't hurt yourself." His cute blue eyes dart back and forth, before Jack leans in again and quickly whispers, "I love you, babe." An inconspicuous embrace for the road and Jack is gone. Reaper can't help watching him go, even after he disappears back into the building. God, he's fallen hard for baby boy Jack. The wraith huffs, angry at himself more than anything else, then hurriedly tramps onto the bird behind the last of the team. He inhales deeply, and assumes the old position that makes his joints hurt just thinking about it - back stiff as a board, hands clasped behind, stern expression meant to make grown men piss themselves. 

"Alright team, you know the drill. We go in, we get our guy, we get out. Our target is Filipp Naumov, a Russian gang leader. We're going in to get him, and we're going in to find traces of his drug and weapons cache. Both are resources for the Omniums that are still functioning, and we need to do what we can to get them to our analysts in Geneva. We clear?" A long wave of bobbing heads. Reaper stood there for another moment before he made a decision so irrational, he would likely die in the process. "McNeil, Kurosawa, Cousineau, Gelens, Ansel, you come with me. Everyone else stay together." Their names came out as if they'd been rehearsed. Then again, the Reaper was not one to stutter.

Especially when he was picking out his next victims.

\----------

**Morning Of The First Day, 2085 - 32 Hours Remaining**

 

"No way in hell." 

"Oh come on, don't be a fucking skeptic."

"I prefer the term realist. I mean- Really? A grizzly in Indiana? There's no way in hell." Soldier rolls his eyes behind the visor. He's had it on this whole time but he hasn't had any pressure to take it off yet, so he hasn't bothered. "Do you want me to look up grizzlies so you know how ridiculous that sounds?" Soldier shoves at the young man, huffing good-naturedly. "It happened and you can't prove it didn't because it happened _years_ before I met you," the old vigilante retorted, elbowing Gabe in his side as the younger man giggled like an anime school girl.

For the past two hours, they've been sitting on the dusty couch that Soldier never uses, Gabe listening and jabbing at the elder Jack's story of the half-rotted bear, laughing at points where Soldier got absurdly goofy with details or when he popped an opportunistic dad joke. It was a pleasant change from the dark and resentful figure he cut when he walked in earlier. Speaking of which, Soldier still wanted to make sure he wouldn't die in his sleep... 

He made an awkward, obvious coughing noise, and Gabe turned to regard him. "So. We're...good? Enough that you won't shoot me in my sleep?" Gabriel looks for a moment, expression blank, before it mellows out into a warm smile and a hand on Soldier's arm. "Enough. Still not gonna get any awards, but... You're not the old fuck I expected." Then Gabe knocked him with an elbow of his own and added, "Just about ten times more of a white boy loser." Soldier swatted as Gabriel laughed, playfully slapping back. 

"Jackass," he muttered, settling back down. "Still the one you want, apparently," Gabriel teased, adding a wink just to see a bit of color creep onto what little of the soldier's face was exposed. The silence between them had an underlying calm to it, one that hadn't been there before. For the first hour, even, Gabe still clung to the notion that this just couldn't be his baby Jackie. Now, he could see exactly how Jack could grow up to be like this. This was so much more like what he thought an older Jack would be. Lame and goofy, sure, but he's still an adorable lame goof. 

It still doesn't feel normal or right or proper. But it's something, and Gabe's happy that the old soldier would at least try to give him that much. And 76 is happy enough being near...

The old man's shoulders sag as he reminds himself - unwillingly - that he is interacting with nothing more than a memory. In less than two days' time, it'll be back to being a lonely vigilante and Reaper on his ass. No cute bantering, not even a friendly voice. As painfully pathetic as it was, that was really all that he wanted. A friendly voice to spend time with in his lonely moments. Maybe he's an idiot for thinking that he deserves that. Not only has he royally fucked with the very laws of time, he's killed hundreds- No, thousands. People and omnic alike. 

Gabriel hesitantly rubs his thumb in circles on Soldier's bicep. "Hey. What's going on, _viejo_? You're spacing." Soldier opens his mouth to say 'Nothing' when a blaring alarm breaks the silence. The two men jolt in surprise, and Soldier can't admit how much it helps that Gabe's response to it is to grab his arm. "All agents, report immediately! Dangerous Talon activity has been sighted in Tokyo! Repeat, all agents report immediately!" Athena's synthesized voice cut through the room, and Soldier began to rush to get his gear together. 

Gabriel sat in awkward lonesome, watching the vigilante dart from one end of the room to the next, gathering up his gun, jacket, biotic fields, ammo magazines, and extra med packs. As Soldier shoulders his rifle to walk out the door, Athena's presence reappears with her symbol on the touchpad by the doorframe. "I'm afraid that _all_ available agents are required for this." Soldier glanced back at Gabriel, still on the couch looking like an awkward teen at a party. "But-"

"I'm afraid those are the orders, Soldier: 76. _All_ available agents are to report immediately." 

\----------

**Morning Of The First Day, 2085 - 31 Hours Remaining**

 

"Winston, what the fuck is going on?" Are the first words out of Soldier's mouth once he and Gabe get down to the meeting room. And Soldier's a little ticked that he had to drag Gabriel down here in half-wet clothes that weren't even totally clean. "Did Athena-"

"She said Talon activity in Tokyo, and that's it. And apparently with all available agents, which, for some reason, includes Gabriel. What's so vitally important that we have to take Gabe further out of the way than we really have to?" 

"Doomfist and Widowmaker are making advances on Japan's yakuza clans."

"So?!" Winston sighed heavily, pushing his glasses back up to their proper place. "It's a political meeting with some of the remaining yakuza clans with an armed convoy. It's hard to say what they're trying to do, but we have a hunch that they're trying to entice him," Winston points to the opposite end of the room where Hanzo had tucked himself into a corner, "to join them by gathering yakuza. With his consent or not." Soldier huffs, dissatisfied but convinced. "Well, why do we need Gabe? All available agents should-" Winston clears his throat and gestures to the gathered agents, muttering, "This... _is_ all of our available agents." Gabe gives them all a quick scan - Mercy, the Brazilian DJ, what looks like a heavily modified OR-15, the archer, the lanky blonde, a massive figure that Gabe was ashamed to say he knew well, and then Winston. It's not much.

Soldier seems to sputter at the meager numbers. "Where's everyone else?!" Winston clears his throat again, now casting wary glances at Gabe as he began to nervously scratch at his flank. "They've been..uh." Athena managed to save him, if it could be called that. "All other agents have been called for duty off-base for safety reasons." All eyes were suddenly on Gabriel. It took a moment for him to realize that he was the one in the spotlight now, and he incredulously looked from person to person like they were all insane. Winston called for attention again with a slap on the table. "That's not the point. The point is-"

"We must act before Talon can gain the attention of Japan's yakuza under one roof," Hanzo cut in, resisting the urge to snarl. "Well why don't we go blow these drongos up, then?"

"We are on a precarious edge as it is with public relations, the last thing we need is to have several yakuza leaders' blood on our hands," Mercy began, and it only got worse from there. Logical arguments turned to bickering turned to petty jabs at one another. The only silence came from Gabe and the enforcer. He manages to slide over to the massive bulk of Roadhog, simply wishing to be with someone equally as uninterested in the silly squabbling as he was. "This happen often?" Roadhog grunted, nodding lightly and then shrugging, and Gabe couldn't help but think 'same'. This was ridiculous, they should be organizing teams to go out, birds to fly, anything but this! 

There's a map displayed on the wall, and from the caption below it, Gabe can figure that it's the map of the location the yakuza are meeting with Talon. He studies it for a moment, then has a brilliant plan flash to mind. He can identify each spot that is guaranteed to be well guarded, where the meeting will be, everything... If he can get their attention. Gabe nudges the enforcer in his wide belly and gestures to the silly fighting going on. "Mind clearing space for me, Rutledge?" He must not, because before Gabe gets more than a step away, Roadhog rattles his hook and chain against the wall loud enough that the rest of the room quiets simply to see the dangerous weapon put away. "Thank you," Gabriel professionally quips as he moves himself right under the projection. 

"So. You say they're trying to get Shimada to come down to the party and have him join Talon, then." Winston nods, tension leeching from his shoulders. He's gotten used to the stress of leading in the past few years, but he can definitely see why Morrison went gray so early. Gabe studies the map for a moment longer, abruptly turns and gives a sly smirk to the archer. "Then you tell them yes." Hanzo opens his mouth to presumably spit a curse if his puffing body was anything to go by, but Gabriel silenced him with a wave. "Look. The best way to get under someone's skin is to show them you're interested. If they're so desperate as to gather all of Japan's yakuza together, then they are woefully, _hilariously_ , desperate to get to you. You tell them yes, then that makes them let their guard down. And once they think they're in the clear..."

" _ **THEY'LL ALL GO DOWN TO THE BOOM HOLE!!**_ " Junkrat excitedly shrieks, accompanied by a manic cackle. Gabriel grins, nodding right along with the Aussie's enthusiasm. "Precisely. This is going to be easier than finding blue in the sky. Here's what we do." Gabe motions to each gathered agent as he explains.

"Shimada, we'll send you in with your nicely dressed bodyguards from Junkertown-" Junkrat rubbed his hands together in manic glee while Roadhog huffed in approval, "-and you can tell Talon that you'll be more than happy to join them as they take you to their big guys upstairs. Once the yakuza are out of the building, they will be discreetly dealt with, and however that pans out, you'll stay with them, bugged and tracked, until you get to a good ambush point. And trust me, there's plenty, which we'll have to clear out because those are going to be the most heavily guarded. And," Gabe adds, pointing to each spot, "then the most likely route they'll take. We find the proper point, and there's going to be a few pulse rifle munitions waiting for the car." Gabe sends another wink at Soldier, who nods definitively if only to hide the color that was returning to his face.

"Once the car's taken down, our big boys will keep our dragon safe as they make a quick and explosive escape." Junkrat cackles with glee at the mere prospect. "And as Talon tries to regroup, they'll have a very unfriendly mutant primate on their hands to keep them occupied. Lúcio will be there to help out the neighborhood pet, Shimada will put down protective fire from the rooftops, with dear Doctor Ziegler on standby helping out our Junkers, and our bot-"

"Will stay with you." Gabriel blinks a few times before he turns to the gorilla, face caught somewhere between confused, angry, and blank. "What."

"We can't risk you coming into contact with any of Talon's specialists. There's no telling what they could do. So Orisa will stay with you." Gabriel starts to protest, but Orisa beats him to it. "My apologies for questioning your leadership Winston, but I was created to counteract Doomfist's abilities. Would I not be more suited to helping our main assault if he will be present?" Winston sighs and shakes his head. Gabe is nearly shaking with rage now. "No. It's better like this. You and Reyes will stay on the bird and wait for the rest of us to carry out the assault." Now 76 is coming in with what would be arguments if Winston didn't cut them all off with a simple "He is a liability, one that would not be here if not for _your_ judgement, 76. He's your responsibility, but he's ordering my agents. This is how it will go. No more arguing. Let's move out."

Mercy gives a reassuring pat to Gabriel's shoulder as she follows Winston out of the room. Soldier mumbles a quick apology before he joins them. Then the omnic is by his side, and Gabe regards her with perhaps a little too much biased disgust. "I suppose we should prepare ourselves for protecting our transportation," Orisa stated blandly, clearly as thrilled about this arrangement as Gabriel was. "Guess so," he muttered, begrudgingly walking out behind the rest of the assembled agents with Orisa to the bird. Fucking hell, this was going to go horribly wrong.


	7. The First Day; Death To Talon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY FINISHED THIS CHAPTER!!!!!!1!
> 
> You guys would've gotten it a day earlier, but I ended up skipping a whole PLOT POINT so I had to take a whole lot of writing off that woulda probably added 500 ish words to this chapter. But who cares! I personally think it's the best one yet since it's finally not a filler chapter!
> 
> And yes, this fic has basically been filler up to this point, don't judge me. I've never stuck to a multi chap like this before.
> 
> Also I can't even remember how to title my own chapters.

**Evening Of The First Day, 2067 - 30 Hours Remaining**

 

"Come on, let's move it!" Reaper barks at the agents as they split into their respective teams. The five he'd taken with him - the Talon agents - come out with him with such confidence that he has to fathom at how his younger self hasn't figured these bozos out yet. How do you just swagger out of a plane behind a guy you're supposed to be manipulating into being an absolute killer? Reaper just huffs, mentally reminding himself to fuck logic, he's in the past, he can do what he needs.

As the rest of the team scatters as they moved forward, Reaper took the group of five off to an old omnic manufacturing plant. It takes a while to find, but as soon as he sees the familiar structure, he knows exactly how to get rid of these five. Reaper leads them in, carefully scanning the area the whole time. "You five stay here. I'm going to scout ahead. If I'm not back in twenty minutes, go back to the bird and call in the rest of the team." With that, Reaper stomped away, only to slip into the shadows as soon as he was out of their sight. As smoke, Reaper slithered around the back of the group, listening intently to their much-too-relaxed banter. "It's funny, y'know," one comments. "I'd thought this would've been an absolute nightmare to deal with. Trying to convince Reyes about all this shit. But hell, he just sticks us all together and takes us with him, it's no problem." McNeil tries to shush Kurosawa, but he waved the woman off. "Come on, it's not like he'll be back any time soon. What's our next move gonna be anyway? When he gets back." The five start to deliberate, much too loudly if Reaper were to consider.

Quiet as the shadows that made him up, Reaper stepped away from the shade of the overhanging catwalk. His shotguns were in his hands in an instant. One of the Talon agents looked up - McNeil, he noticed - and she immediately straightened. Yet the rest were unaffected, Ansel just kept on talking. "Once he comes back, we should take advantage of the anxiety he's been getting. With any luck, we can start to convince him that Morrison is setting him up for failure. So far so good, right?"

"Yep." The five agents were bolt upright in an instant, guns aimed at their supposed commander. Reaper just chuckled, leaning against the corroded guard rail with an evil grin. "Set him up for the real setup. Make him think _all_ the people he loves and trusts are out to get him. That it's all just a show to keep him under their control. I'll tell you now. It worked once." The agents are all unnerved, and rightfully so. McNeil seems ready to piss herself. Kurosawa has his eyes darting between the guns and Reaper's face. "Not this time," growled the Reaper, leaping down from above and blasting the closest agent.

Four more followed in quick succession. Unfortunately, the bastions that had taken out the small group had run off as soon as Reyes came back. He didn't hear anything, didn't see anything. That's all the rest of the team needed to know. There was nothing left of his agents but a few chunks of bone and brain matter, so he didn't bother to bring bodies back. Everyone mourned for the loss of their comrades. Stoic as ever, though, Commander Reyes was there to pick them back up, tell them to do their jobs, and promise that the five downed agents would get the funerals they deserved.

No one said a word when it wasn't followed up on.

\----------

**Afternoon Of The First Day, 2085 - 29 Hours Remaining**

The ride was boring.

The orders were boring.

Sitting here with the omnic was boring.

More than that, it killed Gabe to not be able to do anything. If he could do something, keep track of the agents as they moved through the field, direct them, give guidance, damn near _anything_ , he'd be happy enough to stay on the transport. But as it was, Winston insisted that he had to stay totally invisible. "Because invisible is an eight-foot tall centaur omnic with a giant-ass shield sitting at the door of the bird, of course, you're right, always the strategic genius." 

The gorilla sighed, shaking his head as he thumped out. Hanzo and the Junkers had departed a few hours prior in order to move this mission along at the smoothest pace possible. Everyone else rushed out to get to their respective positions while Gabe and Orisa sat in the bird, both equally as huffy and dissatisfied with their situation. As the rest of the agents hurried to their posts, Soldier stayed behind, reluctant to leave.

He'd managed to at least start patching things up with Gabe with their limited time. He still wants to hold him and cuddle and wish that they won't turn into the monsters they are. But there's a job to do. Soldier sighs. He's too old to be hormonal and romantically repressed. The man puts a calming hand on Gabe's shoulder, and the tension starts to bleed out of the young commander. "Sorry about this," Soldier mutters, eyes firmly locked on the wall behind Gabriel. Thank God for his visor hiding that. Gabe shrugs, half-heartedly chuckling. "Whatever. Not your fault. Not all the way, anyway. And hey-" Gabe lightly pats Soldier's covered cheek, "Knock 'em dead, boy scout." 

"Sir, yes, sir," Soldier mutters under his breath, smile threatening to break through his face mask. A friendly salute and then the soldier was gone too. And Gabriel was alone with the omnic. At least she had the decency to be as pissed off about the situation as he was, albeit more subdued. As soon as she placed her shield at the entrance of the ship, she folded her bulky legs beneath her and quietly sat in wait. Gabe was a little more vocal, cursing in barely-contained whispers and kicking around whatever happened to be on the floor in the back of the ship. He didn't even see half of what he started kicking - he just did it to occupy himself. Gabriel huffed after about twenty minutes, plopped himself down next to Orisa, crossed his arms, and grumbled about nothing in particular.

Orisa's patience was being tried, but she fought the urge to snap. It was only natural that she would be put on low priority tasks. She was still new to this, after all. And yet she felt betrayed. Doomfist, arguably the most dangerous facet of Talon's arsenal, was no match for her abilities, except here she was, babysitting a man who was wholly able to care for himself. Orisa whirred, an omnic equivalent of a sigh. Winston trusted her to do this, though. Had said that she was the best for the job. So there was nothing else to do but sit and wait for the mission to be over. Take over the more menial tasks and continue about the day. At least it wasn't hard to take care of the young Reaper. Orisa was wary, but it was blatantly clear that he was much more of an insolent brat than she initially suspected. Or he acted that way, at least.

Of course she couldn't help staring from time to time. What else could the omnic do? Twiddle her robotic thumbs? Besides, the man...intrigued her. Not in an intense way, more of a natural curiosity. Orisa hasn't had much opportunity to see Reaper in the battlefield, but the stories she's heard... The stories she's heard. 

"Do you think I have a soul?" Gabe jolted; wasn't exactly expecting that question from the omnic. Not this one, anyway. The monk, sure, but the OR-15? "I don't think about that kind of thing." Orisa sat in silent contemplation for another moment. It wasn't often she thought of this either, but after hearing of Reaper's abilities in detail from other agents who had faced him in the field, the centaur bot was curious. "Many consider me an improper omnic because I was not built in an Omnium factory," she continued when Gabriel kept his silence. "I was built by a girl in Numbani, from decommissioned defense robots destroyed by Doomfist. Some don't consider me an omnic at all." The servos in her neck whirred as she turned her head to fix Gabriel with a pointed stare.

Did this man have a soul as well? He was not the monster he would become. Orisa didn't know much of Reaper's prior life, but she knew enough to know that he had been a drastically different man than who he currently was. "What?" 

"I am just...curious." Gabe impatiently waved his hand for her to continue. "I am told by others that you were many things. They've called you funny, as well as devoted, selfless, reckless sometimes to a fault. They've also told of your incredible passion for Overwatch itself. It is just odd to me that you..." The bright yellow lights shining through her face plate go narrow. Something seemed wrong outside. Head raised in imitation of a dog, Orisa slowly creaks up from her sitting position. Her and Gabriel had been sitting just so that the roof of the small transport ship would keep them hidden, sans the shield. But it felt like something was...out there. Waiting. Like a fox trying to dig into a nest of rabbits, impatiently scratching at the shelter surrounding its prey. The omnic took a few steps forward, peering out into the waning light of the Japanese city line. Everything seemed to be normal - no out of place sentries, no passerby, no...anything. Which was the intent when Winston decided to use this location for the Orca. 

Gabriel stepped out alongside the omnic, carefully scanning rooftops and nooks and crannies anywhere they existed. "See anything?" May as well at least try to work with the omnic. "I do not. However, I do not believe we are alone. I feel that we are being watched." Gabe growls, mostly to himself, then turns into the transport to sift through the meager supplies inside. He wants a gun, fucking needs one or else he's going to go insane. Some people may like to call Gabriel Reyes a control freak, but there is absolutely nothing controlling about wanting to be prepared for the worst. The most he can come up with is a fairly standard pulse rifle, not unlike the model Soldier: 76 carries with him, though a tad less fancy. All this one could do is shoot; that's more than enough for Gabe.

He picks his way back to the front, where the door hangs wide open for any Talon fool to shoot into. Gabe considers closing it. There's not much point to it, though. He's a super-soldier and the omnic is...well...an omnic. The only thing that can hurt either of them is probably a directed EMP or something similar, and it's impossible that Talon's accounted for this kind of Overwatch interference. Nevertheless, it won't hurt to be on guard. "I'm gonna go take a quick scout. Nowhere out of sight, so don't worry too much. Just need to-"

"Allow me to accompany you. F-for tactical support!" That makes it clear that the omnic's itching to get out of here just as bad as Gabe, and who's he to tell her no? He shrugs, waving for her to follow as he starts off towards the west side of the clearing. Orisa swings her head and gun at the slightest shift of noise while Gabriel keeps calmly trekking forward. "Hey, chill. It's not that likely that Talon's gonna swoop in on us. I doubt they were prepared for this kind of interference, so I'm sure they won't think to look for us." Orisa nods in agreement but can't help being jumpy anyway. She has limited practical knowledge on Talon's major assets, the most worrying at the moment being their faithful sniper, Widowmaker. Her cannon fire wasn't accurate enough to deal with the sniper from such range, and perhaps she could engage a graviton to pull the offending agent to a more optimal level, but she would simply grapple herself to a different position once again.

Orisa just did her best to calm and have her shield at the ready.

When Gabe speaks again, Orisa nearly deploys her graviton in fright. "You gonna be able to handle it if one of them jumps us?" The omnic scoffs with a proud toss of her head. "Of course. I am capable of detaining any of Talon's prime assets." As if waiting for a cue, a vicious echo rebounds through the small area. Gabriel knows the sound much too well, but he can't see any kind of tracer path or indication of a sniper. Perhaps they got lucky and she was further ahead, trying to take out the main group. As the sound faded, Gabriel started to turn towards the ship, only to get a massive train send him tumbling away across rough concrete. 

It _had_ to have been a train. Nothing else was strong enough to send him flying that easily. Sharp ringing filled his ears for much too long. He tried to shake it away, but each time his head jerked, the ringing intensified. Indistinguishable shapes were all he could see as Gabriel staggered to his feet, one muddled leafy green and another dark brown and gold plated, both tossing each other around on a sheet of varying shades of gray. 

Eager as he was to fight, a blow from Doomfist's gauntlet wasn't easy to shake off. Gabe tried to stand several times, and each attempt ended in another scrape back on the concrete. Those little injuries saw skin knitted back together almost instantly, but the probably-fracture in one arm and definitely-broken ribs were taking way too much time. He had to get back in the fight _now_ , if not to help then at least to give a piece of his own fist to the bastard who knocked him a few hundred feet away. 

Finally, Gabriel managed to get up to two legs, took a few steps, then fell again as a searing pain exploded through his leg. He bit his forearm to keep some semblance of stealth, though he was clearly a goner if somebody managed to get a bullet in his leg. Some sniper. Even though their aim was way off if they only got him in the thigh. _The only thing I could rely on to not be shot, damn it. The holy thighs have been defiled._ Gabriel managed to laugh at himself even though he was liable to die now. Maybe paranoia was catching up with him. Ah well. Life lived well isn't always life lived long or whatever. May as well go out with a bang.

Though it was a pain to do it, Gabriel pushed up again, back onto his feet. Good old super soldier endurance. Hurt like hell but there was no way it was keeping him out of a fight. His vision was slowly clearing up too, and Gabe could clearly see the omnic whirling and fighting with the burliest guy alive. He also realizes his hands have been empty for much too long to be comfortable, and quickly spots the pulse rifle a few meters away. Gabe snatches it, carefully aims, and lets loose a burst of fire. It's only a few shots, but it's enough to garner some attention. Doomfist snaps his head around, teeth bared in a snarl at the offending gunman, and it's all that's necessary for Orisa to grab the man and send him flying. He smashed into the concrete wall, causing cracks to spider-web outward. 

A bullet pinged off Orisa's metal plating, barely grazing her body armor. Another lodged into the plate of her arm, and another tore a small hole in her chest plate. Orisa spotted the sniper - at the corner of an alley. Gabe knew that bait before he really even saw the rifle. Yet before he could so much as shout to the omnic, she galloped off after the Talon agent, firing off her cannon even as she skidded around the corner. Leaving Gabriel alone. With a very angry Doomfist crawling out of a pile of concrete rubble. 

Normally, Gabriel was all about close-quarters combat. But normally he had his shotguns. Those puppies could blast a human body to nothing but bloody chunks in no time flat. But they were left back in his proper time frame. The pulse rifle was better for long range gun fights. And with a shiny giant fucking gauntlet, Gabe was thinking that keeping any distance from this guy was going to be impossible. Nonetheless, he aimed down the sights of the gun. Maybe there was a chance he could wear the man down from afar and somehow win a fistfight once he got close. It's not likely. Scratch that, it's probably impossible. But with super soldier endurance came super soldier stubbornness. Or maybe that was just a symptom. Whatever it was, there was no use in not trying, however stupid.

Gabe popped a round of three shots off, lightly grumbling when they all glanced off the gauntlet. His aim was probably way off from so long without using a rifle in real combat. No use thinking on it now. Gabriel kept shooting, steady trios of shots in between steps back as Doomfist himself advanced. 

It didn't take long for the distance between them to close. One last futile burst of fire was all he could manage before the brawler was upon him. Gabe tossed the gun away and ducked in close. He intended to give a proper jab to the vulnerable flank, but was easily stopped by the metal augment. The gauntlet closed around his arm, thick metal digging into his flesh as he's lifted off his feet. Gabe has the wherewithal to at least give a mean kick, mostly to serve as a small buffer to his now-wounded ego. It makes Doomfist grunt - it's not much, but it's enough to make Gabriel the tiniest bit more satisfied. 

"Aren't you worried about the precious dragon?" Gabe grunts, still trying to kick while his feet were free. Doomfist laughed - a deep, booming thing that rattled your very bones. And very much like an adult laughing at an ignorant child. "Shimada will never come to Talon. That much has become clear." Gabe's dark chestnut eyes go wide. "Then what the fuck are you here for?" There's a moment of hesitation. Wait. Not hesitation. It's expectant. Like Gabe should know precisely what this man means. Like it's right in front of him. 

"You," the almighty Talon leader replies in a dark tone.

There's enough time for Gabriel to shudder before he's suddenly flung back to the ground. He's getting a bit tired of being manhandled, if he's being honest. And, Gabe realizes as he lifts his head up, who should come to save his pretty head but Soldier: 76. At this point, Gabe's happy enough that he's only getting some wickedly nasty bruises for a few hours, pride wounded or not. 

At first it seems that Doomfist is raring to strike right back, but a quick glance behind the soldier shows the remainder of the current Overwatch team - Orisa included - quickly closing in. So rather than attempt suicide, Doomfist grunts, mildly dissatisfied, and almost immediately sprints in the opposite direction. Gabe groans a little at the fleeing target. He knows enough to understand that if he'd just played it a little smarter, he could've probably helped himself. Whatever. It'll happen sooner or later. Overwatch always gets their guy after all. 

A hand extends downward and Gabriel gratefully accepts it, using the extra help to finally stay on his feet for a few minutes. Soldier helps him as everyone loads onto the ship, almost everyone happily chatting about how well the mission went. Angela and Winston both congratulated Gabe on his excellent strategy. Being the cocky bastard he was, Gabriel took it in stride, brushing it off as "good old commander's intuition". "Speaking of intuition," Angela began, raising a stiff eyebrow at Gabriel's limp. He still had a bullet in his fucking leg after all.

\----------

**Evening Of The First Day, 2067 - 27 Hours Remaining**

 

That's ten now. Ten Talon agents disguised as Blackwatch trying to sneak around his office. And ten bodies he'd had to sap and toss away, miraculously without being caught. Part of it was because Reaper was becoming impulsive. When he went too long without feeding off another body, he'd start thinking less and doing more, which was something he couldn't afford to do right now. The fact that it was _Talon_ lackeys grouping up to be fed upon was no fault of his own. If they wanted to line themselves up neatly to be shot down one by one, then by all means, Reaper would let them. Disposing of the bodies was actually surprisingly easy since they were much more compact after being shrunk to husks of bone and skin. And the energy and brain function they gave back was enough that Reaper felt...dare he say happy? 

The next best thing at least. Like the cheesy bad movies from the early 2000s, with an upbeat pop tune slapped onto a walk cycle. Maybe not _that_ extreme, but all the same, it felt invigorating. The debrief felt quick and easy to follow for once, Jesse didn't give him any shit for walking around with a dopey smile on his face that hadn't seen the light in years, and Genji actually seemed to relax when he finally saw the ninja again. The night had come and with it, the absence of hundreds of people out partying or doing whatever normal people did after dark. And Reaper made a decision.

As many Talon agents as he could kill would be gone without a trace by the time he was done in 2067. And with any luck, the number left would be zero.


	8. The Second Night; A Cold Shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who decided to update???
> 
> I meant to get this done before the end of February, but I got really hung up on a certain scene and couldn’t finish it til now. If it makes you feel any better...there’s some sexy-sex in this chapter? It’s better than chapter 2’s, I’ll tell you that much.
> 
> Anyway, I FEEL like this is a longer chapter but I could be 100% wrong (watch it actually be the shortest chapter lol).
> 
> Also, WE ARE GETTING CLOSE TO THE BIG CLIMAX!!!! I’m so fuckin PUMPED! Can’t wait to break all your hearts <3

**Night of the Second Day - 23 Hours Remaining 2085**

 

The trip back to base was surprisingly short to Soldier. With Angela fussing over Gabe’s leg, Junkrat and Roadhog bantering in the corner - one-sided, as per the usual - Winston belatedly typing up his own mission reports on top of congratulating everybody on a job well done… But something still nagged at 76. It went too smoothly. Other than the hangup with Doomfist, everything else went exactly as they had planned. Or strategized, or whatever. 

Regardless of what it was, it was too easy. Hanzo didn’t get more than a few superficial scrapes. Orisa, although she chased Widowmaker through half the city, came away with only a few holes and tears in her armor. Junkrat was predictably burned. Even Winston and Roadhog, the massive bodies taking the brunt of the damage, didn’t sustain any more than a few bone fractures and a minor concussion for the ape. 

Oddly enough, Gabe got hurt more by himself than he probably would have if he’d just gone with the group. There was a bullet lodged in his thigh, a cracked jaw, three fractured ribs, mild road rash, a few bruised bones, and then his pride, above all. Angela quickly has him carted off the ship as they land, while McCree comes storming through, demanding why he was put on a mandatory leave. Soldier huffs at that, gesturing for Winston to deal with it himself. Soldier follows Angela into the med bay, where she already has a protesting Gabriel nearly strapped down.

“Angela, I’m fine! Go take care of everyone else.”

“Gabriel, they’re all perfectly fine compared to you. I need to take the bullet out of your leg, make sure that you haven’t had anything broken, and you need rest. As I’ve been told, you’ve eaten absolutely nothing since you’ve been here, nor have you had anything to drink but alcohol. You are not in the right state to try to let yourself heal.” Gabe made an exaggerated show of sighing, head softly thumping against the bed as it dropped. The good doctor took it as a show of assent and moved off to prepare a side room for the young man. The whole exchange was adorable, really. 

Soldier: 76 came over to the bedside, lightly bumping his knuckles on Gabe’s arm for his attention. “That desperate to stay out of med, huh?” Gabriel rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I don’t care if I come out from under a building, I don’t want to go straight here when I get off a job like this. It’s just too…”

“It’s too much like SEP.” Hesitantly, Gabriel nodded, slow and unsure. “Yeah,” he quietly replied, “Too much like SEP.” Maybe it helps, or maybe Soldier: 76 is just making up reasons to be more physical, but Gabe seems to relax a bit when the vigilante rests his gloved hand on the younger man’s bicep. Soldier wants to say something, maybe try to ask if Gabe wants to...meet. He can’t say ‘hang out’ because that’s way too casual. Sit down somewhere, have a stiff drink, maybe find some way to entertain themselves for the next day or so until Gabriel has to leave. 

Soldier swears to himself that his heart doesn’t ache just a tiny bit at the fact that Gabe still has to leave after all is said and done.

No matter what Reaper does, 76 is sure that he’d prefer the exchange to just not happen; leave Reaper to either kill his younger self or live the rest of his life with him.

But it’s not his place. He doesn’t have a right to keep Gabriel here, where he can’t know or understand more than half of what’s going on at any time. Nor does he have a right to keep Gabe away from the bright young blonde he has waiting for him. Even if that blonde is a complete moron who doesn’t really comprehend what he threw away when he took the damn position as Strike Commander. Maybe things could have been different.

It’s too late though. Too late to fix that. May as well enjoy what he had left to enjoy.

As Angela busies herself, readying the next room for proper surgery, even if it’s only skin deep, Soldier keeps the younger man company, commenting casually on how their enemies have seemed to lose their edge. Gabriel laughs right along with him, perfectly happy to finally fall into a routine that’s comfortably familiar. Angela finally came to shoo Soldier: 76 out. “Jack, go, I need complete silence. I’ll have to keep Gabriel here for an hour, at the very least. It’s going to take some time since the entry wound has closed. Now go, go!” 76 stumbles back a bit at the doctor’s insistence, but somehow a little bubble of courage comes to the surface before the woman is able to push him out. 

“G-Gabe, come find me when you get out!” Gabriel tries to shout back a response, but Ziegler’s already shut the door, Soldier on the other side. “Alright. Distractions out of the way, let’s get digging.”

\----------

**Night of the Second Day - 22 Hours Remaining 2085**

 

Gabe hissed as he limped out of the med bay. “Gabriel!” Angela shouted after him. “You got it out!” He barked back, almost like a petulant child demanding to play after he’d hurt himself. “I’m fine!” 

“Gabriel Reyes, get back in this medical ward immediat-!” 

Gabe slammed the door shut behind him, hobbling off to find the soldier. After an hour of being poked and prodded until his leg went numb, Gabe was ready to go do whatever 76 had in mind. Something, anything other than spending more time in that room. The limp was annoying, to say the least, but so long as there was no bullet in his leg, Gabriel was perfectly fine with the slight flare of pain every time he leaned to his left side. No wonder Genji hated going in there so much… Gabe was sure that his vision was going to be stained white for weeks. 

He eventually found the vigilante in a common room not far from the med bay. Angela hadn’t chased him, so assumedly she wouldn’t come to drag Gabriel back to the depths of the sterile white labyrinth. Gabriel lands on the just-big-enough couch with a grunt and a slight thud. It’s silent for a solid minute before something cold nudges his hand. Gabriel takes the bottle, mumbling a thanks, and then practically chugs the whole thing down. It burns pleasantly, sends a slight tingle through his spine. 

“Alright?” Gabe nods. He doesn’t really want to talk right now. If he really had the option, he’d prefer to find someone to have a quick tryst before he has to leave. Unfortunately, they’re all either gone, taken, or an ape. And Gabe wants nothing to do with either of those last two categories. “So, _cabrón_ , what’re we going to do for the next twenty-four hours or so?” Soldier shrugs, lifting his own bottle up. Gabe starts; he realizes that he’s never seen 76’s face in the day or so he’d been here, and even now, Soldier has only removed the bottom portion of his mask, the plate that covers his mouth and nose. 

What Gabriel sees, however, is enough to make him understand. There’s scarring that peeks out from the mask, threads of white trying to make themselves seen. Then there’s a patch of what seems to be burn scarring, something deep, discoloring the pale white skin to something more reddish-brown, like dried blood. On the left side of his mouth is a large gash that has scarred over. It continues up, angled towards where his eye should be under the red of the visor.

The young man swallows. He can’t fathom what kind of tragedy would make Jack Morrison want to hide his face. It starts as just being that, sentiment, and maybe a little sympathy, since Gabe has scars on his own face that people tend to instinctively look away from, out of either disgust or respect. Then it gradually evolves into what-ifs. What if it was something bad? What if it was something someone did? What if Gabe could have stopped it? What if it was something Gabe said? 

...What if Gabe had caused it?

Gabriel shakes his head with sharp jerks. He’d never do something like this to Jack. No matter what, he just... He couldn’t do that to him. Never. The rough glove on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts. “You good?” Soldier asks, and Gabe can’t help but stare at the way the scars around his mouth move, how the stiffness doesn’t make him lock up. He’s had them for a while. Long enough to not be bothered by any of them. Gabe suppresses a shudder at that thought. “Fine.” Then, after a moment, he grabs the elder soldier’s hand, pulling him off into the hallway. “You clean?” Gabriel asks after a moment.

76 pauses, almost confused. The reality is quick to crash on him. “Why do you ask?”

“Why do you think, _viejo_? I don’t want to carry anything back with me when I leave, and if you really don’t want to, I’m sure I can go find some other seventy-something year old grey-haired whore to fuck.” It’s said in good humor, but Soldier can see that it isn’t meant very sincerely. The humor, that is. Gabriel’s been shaken up by something, he’s not sure what, and he’s trying to keep the same routine. This was how it used to go.

No Reaper. No jobs. No anything. Just Jack and Gabe. Laughing at each other and at the world that tried to keep them apart. 

Some good that did.

Soldier: 76 sees his own door and sets about opening it up. “Clean enough. If we’re gonna do it, let’s do it before someone thinks I’m planning to keep you.” Gabe barks a laugh. “You? Keep me? I’d like to see you try.”

\-----

**Night of the Second Day - 21 Hours Remaining 2067**

 

Agents dropped left and right. With so many others gone, it was easy for Reaper to ghost around as smoke, slip into a room, and eliminate another Talon spy. After the initial fifteen or so, he began to take note of their names, making sure to give them a little ‘emergency leave’. It’d look strange, but not unusual. That was usually the phrase used to signify deployed Blackwatch agents, so nobody would look his way. Or hopefully they wouldn’t, at least.

Obviously having dozens of agents off the grid was going to look strange, especially considering Blackwatch strike teams were smaller, only two or three agents sent out at a time, maybe a few more if it was a longer duration. These numbers were going to be hard to explain.

But Reaper wasn’t hugely concerned. He had actually been smarter as Blackwatch Commander than he had been since. He mused on the oddity as he emerged from another room, ready to hunt for more. Most people considered themselves smarter as they aged. Then again, most people didn’t become deformed facsimiles of their former selves at age… 

Reaper stopped in the middle of the hallway. He doesn’t remember how old he was when he was turned into this. Perhaps he’s never had a reason to think about it, but being here, with a young, bright-eyed Jack, with Jesse, with Genji, he realizes how much of his life he doesn’t know. Sure, he remembers, he can recall most of his life before and after Zurich, but he can’t put an age to himself. Now, in 2067, he knows Jack is in his forties, forty-eight to be exact. Reaper doesn’t know how old he was in 2067. It should be easy, it should be there, yet the exact number just...avoids him. 

And why should it matter? This is all in the past. If he does this thing right, he’ll be able to - hell, what _would_ he have done if Talon hadn’t tried to ‘commandeer’ him, as it were?

Reaper jolts as he comes back into himself. He’d begun to collapse as he disassociated, smoke filling the hallway in a thick blanket. The mercenary shakes himself back into action. He must concentrate to keep his legs composed. There’s no reason why he should care so much about it, yet-

Jack catches Reaper by his elbow, jerking him backward. “Gabe, hey. Where’ve you been? I’ve been texting you for hours.” Reaper looks down on the hand settled on his arm. The pale skin against his darkness. “Nothing. Room inspections,” he lies. Obviously he can’t tell Jack what’s going on, if he does, the blonde might lose his sanity. “I haven’t heard of these room inspections before,” Jack replies in a wary tone, “Do you want me to go with you?” God damn it, he’s supposed to not care. Reaper yanks his arm back. “No. Go to bed. I’m taking care of it.” 

The Strike Commander was quick to rebound, and slammed Reaper’s shoulder into the wall. “Gabriel, tell me what’s wrong. I’ll make it an official order if I have to.” It’s said jokingly, but it strikes a live wire inside the Reaper.

“Go ahead,” Reaper growls, pulling away from the wall with a snarl, “Do it. Blackwatch, and me with it, don’t fall under your delusional fantasy of power. As a matter of fact-” He turned and smashed Jack back into the unforgiving wall. “-I suggest you stay out of my business. I can leave this shithole anytime I feel like. Don’t think that you are the only thing keeping me here.” 

A cold spike starts to wedge itself in the Strike-Commander’s chest. Of course he’s not the sole reason Gabe stays in the Zurich HQ. That’s always been clear between them. There’s been days, weeks, even a few months at one point, when Gabe would just leave to go to a Blackwatch hole to think or cool off or whatever it was he did. Having it shoved into his face makes him think that perhaps… “I see. If that’s the case, I want to see you off my goddamn base in twenty-four hours.” Jack can be just as callous and cold as Gabe, if that’s how he wants to play the game. 

Neither said a word as they parted ways, each stomping their own path down the hallway.  
\-----

**Night of the Second Day - 21 Hours Remaining 2085**

 

Gabe was so sure that the day he bottomed for anyone was going to be the day he went to hell. 76 convinced him otherwise.

They half stumbled into the room, mostly due to Gabriel’s haste to get it over with as soon as possible. He’s halfway between disgusted and excited - for one thing, he’s about to fuck someone other than his committed partner, and for another, Gabe’s fucking a Jack that’s been with him, knows him. The confusing blend of emotions is hard to swallow, especially when Soldier grips his wrists to stop him from undressing.

At first, Gabe thinks it’s because he’s going to get pushed around - it’s not out of his mind at this point - and makes to step away, but Soldier holds on without speaking a word. “The fuck are you doing? I thought this was for fucking sex.” Soldier stays silent. He trails his gloved hand up to lightly grip Gabriel by the back of his neck, and the whole motion sets the young man’s body trembling. Barely there, suppressed only by years in military service, but glaringly present to the soldier’s steady hand. 

76 takes a half step closer. He covers Gabriel’s mouth with his own, gently prodding at his lips with his tongue, until Gabe opens up to him, and somehow Soldier feels like he’s gotten too out of his league. In the past ten or so years, he’s probably fucked two people since Gabe. One quick meetup with McCree that the kid had insisted wouldn’t be as bad as it sounded (except it kinda was) and then a not-quite-fuck with Genji that ended less than ideally. As he pulls away from the soft lips, he laughs at himself. Blackwatch had him cornered after all. 

“What’s so funny?”

“I’ve fucked three separate people in my life, and they’re all either you or your subordinates.” Color rises to Gabe’s cheeks. “Do you fucking mind?” He hisses, but it’s impossible to hide the grin creeping onto his face. “They’re basically my children, asshole.” 76 chuckles, slipping his hand up to caress Gabe’s cheek as he steals another kiss from him. “I guess the Reyes clan has me reserved as the family whore then. Gotta get my tricks somewhere,” he adds at Gabriel’s burst of laughter. “Shut the fuck up and kiss me some more, would you?” 

Soldier is more than happy to comply. They hold onto each other like they’re drowning, locked together and only separating for a few seconds at a time to breathe. Suddenly the soldier surged forward, crowding Gabriel against the wall, one hand forcing down his pants to grope at his ass while the other pushed underneath the somehow-still-there beanie to grip at the short curls. Conscious of the visor still over his eyes, Soldier: 76 nips roughly at Gabe’s jawline. His teeth leave indents as he trails bites from jaw to neck, grumbling at the hoodie keeping him from leaving more marks on bronze skin. 

A noise catches in Gabriel’s throat, a gurgling sort of croon that was meant to be a laugh at the soldier’s libido until his teeth latched back onto exposed skin. “Get on with it and fuck me, viejo,” Gabriel growled, moderately embarrassed at the noise that had been forced from him. Soldier roughly yanked the dark pants off, followed shortly by boxers. He practically rips the gloves off his own hands so he can feel the feverish warmth of skin as he pushes Gabriel’s hoodie up over his chest. 

One hand tweaks a dark nipple, pulling a strangled yelp out of Gabriel. The other travels down, pulls Gabe’s leg around his waist, hiking him further up the wall. Soldier bites roughly at Gabe’s nipple, alternating with sucking and teething to make him squirm. Gabriel quickly rids himself of what little clothing he still had. “Bed,” he husks, “now, rubiecito.” Soldier huffs as he carries Gabe to the seldom-used bed, muttering, “I’m not that damn blonde anymore.” Both men fall onto the firm mattress, bouncing slightly as they climbed further up towards the wall.

As soon as they’re right against the meager pillow-and-a-half, Gabe tries to flip positions, futilely pushing against the soldier’s battle-hardened body. “Wanna fuck or not?” Gabe snarls. “I don’t know, Gabriel,” Soldier purrs right back, “I thought you wanted to fuck.”

“Yeah, so-”

“So you’re getting fucked.” The commanding rumble of that voice made any further protest die immediately. If he’d been given the room to respond, he might’ve felt the urge to resist, but instead, he laid there, still on his back in stunned silence, as Soldier grabbed an oddly available bottle of lube. “You have people here often?” Soldier paused in his process of removing the remainder of his visor. Only for a split second. The piece was carefully placed on the small bedside table, so it wouldn’t be knocked off in the event of some overeager sex. “No, just figured you’d get here sooner or later.” Gabe snorted. 

Soldier is happy to see the younger man at least trying to laugh at himself, especially with the abrupt manner he was brought here. It brings a smile to his weary face. Small, but there. Gabriel stuns him from his dive into daydreaming with a fist in his shirt. “Gonna take these off or is that my job?” Soldier is more than ready to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. He makes quick work of his own clothes, tossing them all off the side of the bed, and kneels between Gabriel’s spread legs. 

He coats his fingers liberally, probably with way too much lube if he’s being honest. But this is Gabe’s first time taking dick, so he may as well have an enjoyable first, regardless of how horny he is. 76 is careful as he prods his index finger against Gabriel’s hole, slowly slipping the tip in before pushing down to the first knuckle. The younger man squirms, unused to the sensation that came with prepwork. Usually he was the one doing the fingering, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. There’s a slight sting as the digit withdraws, quickly replaced with two. 

It’s disgustingly slow and sweet, with soft encouragements and heated kisses in between while Soldier relubes his fingers. After what feels like hours - and is actually about five minutes - Gabriel grabs the stark white mess of hair still hovering over him and drags it close. “Fuck me now or I’ll tear your fucking-” He doesn’t get to finish the threat, as 76 quickly lines up and pushes the head of his cock into the stretched hole, causing him to gasp loudly.

“Still feeling cocky, punk?” Soldier nibbled at Gabe’s earlobe, making the commander moan like a wanton harlot. Color has turned his cheeks a faint ruddy brown, just able to be picked out in the gentle dark of the room. “You’re one to talk about cocky,” Gabe gasps out, breath hitching. Rough hands grab his hips and pull him further onto Soldier’s dick. He’s not even halfway in and the feel of something so thick and hot settled into Gabriel’s ass is absolutely euphoric.

Soldier shifts a bit, moving his hands to spread Gabe’s beautiful thighs further apart. He spots the barely visible paleness from where the bitch had put a bullet into his might-have-been, should-have-been, boyfriend or husband or anything beyond that. Funny that he’s still feeling possessive and affectionate for a man he can’t have. _Ah well_ , Soldier thinks as he rubs a gentle circle around the mark with his thumb, _Better to have loved and lost, all that bullshit_ , even though he would’ve preferred to lose everything without loving anything. Regardless of whether he should still feel so strongly for this man, past or present, they’d come in here to fuck, and judging from Gabriel’s whiny pleas, he should probably follow up on it.

“Jackie,” he whined, “c’mon, move!” Soldier has an insufferably smug grin on his face as he inches further into the tight warmth. “I thought you wanted to fuck, Gabe?” Expectedly, Gabriel tries to snap back with a scathing reply, but instead gets a rough thrust from the soldier, which elicits a shuddering moan from his lips instead. Soldier slowly pulls himself out, biting back a groan at the pressure from the slick hole. He’s quick to push back in, starting slowly to avoid any real injury. Real injury, though. A few bruises wouldn’t kill him.

Soldier digs his fingers into the meat of Gabriel’s thighs, sharply thrusting into the tight warmth of Gabriel’s ass. The warm chestnut color of his eyes is almost gone, reduced to little rings around his dilated pupils. And oh, if that look doesn’t light a fire in the soldier’s belly. A hand wraps around Gabe’s neck, squeezing on just this side of too much. “You want it that bad?” Soldier husks. Gabe keeps squirming at the sudden lack of stimulation; Soldier is only rocking his hips, applying nothing more than token pressure. “Jackie! M-move god damn it!” Gabe tried to push back against the soldier, trying to fuck himself on the cock in his ass, with little success. The most he got himself was more stimulation and no closer to release. 

“Want me to move?” Soldier shrugged, an almost-evil smirk playing on his lips. “Whatever you say.” As he started to pull out, Gabriel wrapped his legs firmly around Soldier’s hips, pulled back, and the soldier - not for the first time in the last thirty six hours or so - remembered just how much he loved and missed these beautifully thick thighs. “You’d better fucking not, _pendejo_ ,” he growled from between gritted teeth, “or else you don’t even get to _look_ at my ass until I leave.” He makes it sound like he’s just a neighbor that lives a few blocks down the road. Somehow.

Soldier wastes no more time teasing, one hand holding tightly onto Gabe’s hip and the other bracing against the bed as he roughly bucks into the tight heat. Gabriel wraps his arms around the man’s neck, tightening his legs around the soldier’s muscled body with force that could have easily crushed a normal person. He tried to grit his teeth, to be quiet, but each thrust from the soldier has him letting loose another needy, whining moan. Pressure vanished from his hip, only for the hand to wrap around his dick, carelessly jerking him off like it’s an afterthought. Soldier bites his throat again, then Gabe is bucking his hips, coming over his front in thick spurts. Soldier’s pace stutters from the positively _heavenly_ way Gabriel is squeezing around his cock, and with another deep thrust, he’s coming inside Gabriel for the first time in fucking years, and it feels like the best thing he could really ask for.

—————

**Night of the Second Day - 19 Hours Remaining 2085**

 

Somehow, nobody’s knocked in the hour or so that he and Gabe have been dozing in the dark room. With practiced stealth that came only from a life on the edge of the law, 76 dressed in the clothes he’d thrown on the floor, silently batting them clean of the dirt that they’d probably gotten from their time on the floor. Soldier paused in his motions to glance at Gabriel. The younger commander, despite being almost entirely covered by the comforter, shook uncontrollably as he slept. It plucked at something in the old vigilante. A memory, a nugget of sympathy, he couldn’t quite figure it out.

Nor could he really care which it was. He spotted his 76 jacket where it’d fallen in a heap by the door, indifferently tossed to the floor in their rush to enjoy themselves. The leather was a bit cold as he picked it up, but it would warm quickly enough. Soldier stepped back to the side of the bed and carefully slid it over Gabe’s shoulders. The darker skinned man shifted a bit in his sleep, but stopped shivering quite so much. Soldier can’t resist a small smile creeping onto his face at the movement. Whether it was the heat or his scent that made Gabriel calm down, it sent a warm, fuzzy feeling down Soldier: 76’s spine, something he couldn’t remember feeling in a long time.

With a parting kiss, Soldier left, not bothering to so much as lock the door.


	9. The Second Day; It’s Not Always Sunshine And Rainbows...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This once again took a little longer than I would’ve liked. But it’s DEFINITELY longer, and there’s some more spicy stuff at the end ;) Gotta justify that E rating somehow! Also I changed up some tags, oughta be a little better now.

Night of the Second Day - 18 Hours Remaining 2085

Waking is slow for civilians. They don’t and have probably never lived on the edge of a war zone, don’t live from day to day with the fear that they wouldn’t see their loved ones again if they dare to step foot outside. The military beats that slow, careful process into an efficient thirty seconds or less. Less time spent waking up means there’s more time available to get prepared for the next wave of bullets. 

So waking up naturally, slowly, in a downright lazy way, was strange to Gabriel. Even after moving to higher command in Overwatch, he still had to get up early, do requisitions, train recruits, go out for months at a time for a single mission, occasionally meet with foreign delegates or whatnot when they asked - thankfully not often anymore, what with the whole charade of ‘retirement’ after the Crisis. His chest ached as the world around him finally came into focus. Something makes him hurt but he can’t understand why he’d hurt like that. It doesn’t look familiar, where he’s at, so his first instinct is to bolt upright and run for the door, lack of clothes be damned, until he felt the heavy leather around his shoulders. Immediately, he grabs for it, fully expecting a human or omnic to come tumbling over his shoulder. Except it’s just the jacket. Gabe eyes the thing, turning it over, pulling it up to his face. After a few deep breaths, he remembers.

76\. The freak in black. All these people he should know and just...doesn’t. Gabriel swallows around the thick lump gathering in his throat. Too many emotions for so little time. And he can’t run to a Blackwatch base somewhere in who-the-fuck-cares to calm himself down. Instead, he presses the jacket against his face and tries to focus on the scent. A little more stale, a little older, but it’s still that weird, honey-ish pine scent that Jack’s always had. Gabe chuckles to himself. He used to tease Jack back in SEP for the smell, always saying that he missed his old country hick town so much he rolled around in the woods to feel better. Jack would laugh and jab right back with some kind of ‘LA surfer’ comment that was lame. Gabriel would laugh anyway, just because of how hard he fell for the pretty blond.

Muttering curses and sweet nothings under his breath, Gabe throws the jacket around his shoulders and started to dress himself. 

Night of the Second Day - 17 Hours Remaining 2067

Jack drummed his fingers against his bicep as he stood outside the door to Gabe's office. He wanted to go in. Someone had said something about Gabe being off and dragging one of his agents to an emergency meeting. Jack wanted to know what happened but this wasn't his place. These weren't his men. And he had told Gabe in very explicit terms that he didn’t want to see him on base. Yet the tingle of worry burned in his gut. Better to get it over with now. Jack raised his hand to knock at the door, except he didn't quite get there as another Blackwatch agent bumped into him as he went to make the move. "Oh, Commander Morrison! S-sorry sir, I didn't realize you were going in." Jack chuckles and waves the apology away. Half of Blackwatch hated him and the other half pissed themselves at the thought of him. It was hot and cold. Once again, though, not his men. "Do you want me to wait outside, or..."

"No, no, you've got reason to talk with Reyes too." Jack finally pushed the door open and walked in with the agent right on his heels. "Let's just-" 

Jack could swear his heart stopped in his chest. On the floor, right in front of Gabe's desk, was a body. The face was unrecognizable, but the body sported a Blackwatch uniform, bloodied and tattered. But more than that, Gabriel knelt over it, still scratching at whatever remained of the agent's face. Blood was seeped under his nails, his eyes glowed unnaturally red, some kind of black smoke or ink drifted off of his body in lazy wisps and clumps, and his teeth were needle-like as they hovered just above where the agent's mouth would have been. The dangerous predator's eyes flick to where Jack stood with the other agent, and his whole image seemed to still. Even the black smoke pouring off of his body nearly froze in place. 

Faster than Jack could react, Gabriel lunged, sinking his teeth into the second Blackwatch agent's throat. The blonde stumbled backwards until he hit a wall, transfixed by what he was watching. Gabriel killing his own men. Gabriel looking like a monster. 

Never before had Jack considered Gabe the way he did then. All he could think was _predator, dangerous, killer, deadly, murderer._ Things he'd associate with a crazed terrorist in a hostage situation, not the man he loved. Jack remains fixed in place as the body of the kid, couldn't have been more than twenty-five, was reduced slowly, slowly, until it became little more than a shriveled husk. 

Reaper heaved with heavy pants. He tried to hold off feeding for too long. Somehow he thought he could make it two whole days but it grates on him; so many people in such a small space when he was too hungry could only spell disaster. It’s not like he’s killing _real_ Blackwatch agents though. They’re all Talon. All expendable. All perfectly ripe for the kill. None of them are going to be missed.

There's a heavy scent of fear in the room, and as soon as Reaper glances up, he falters. Jack can't see him like this. Jack can't know what he's become. He can't know what's going on, he can't know what's going to happen, he can't know, he can't _fucking **know**_. But it's too late now. It's too goddamn late. Because Jack knows, he sees what is going to become of the man who helped him beat back the omnics, who loved him. Nothing but a cold-blooded killer, a faceless abomination of smoke and teeth and hellish, necrotic flesh constantly generating and regenerating. 

Something is pricking at his eyes. Reaper barely recognized the sensation of crying, he does it so inoften. Some days he wondered if he was capable. No need to wonder now. Not that it matters. 

Reaper can't even tell when he lets out a heavy wail of anguish. Tears flood down his face, staining his cheeks with black streaks. Someone tries to touch him and he jerks away. He doesn't deserve any kind of loving embrace, someone to help him through this heavy pain sitting in his chest. At this point, Reaper doesn't even care. He dissolves, and flees into the air vents.

\---------

**Evening Of The First Day, 2067 - 15 Hours Remaining**

 

Jack cleaned up the bodies, didn't even feel surprised when nobody noticed the entire ordeal. He scoured the whole base for any sign of Gabe, becoming more and more distressed the longer he went without finding him. Jack was about to burst into tears himself when he smacked right into Reaper. He almost sobs in relief, and nearly laughs right after. Even if this isn't Gabriel, it's done a damn good job of emulating him if its first response to getting found out was to sulk around the halls with a hoodie on. 

Reaper staggers backwards, trying to find another escape. He tugs the hood back down, turns, mumbles a low "sorry," just for his arm to be grabbed before he could even get a step away. "Gabe." Reaper can practically hear his heart crack. Jack's trying. God damn him, he's still trying to be a good fucking person. Again, he tries to back away, escape, wants to dissolve away like he did at first even though it was infinitely more dangerous here. But Jack has his arm, and doesn't let go. Reaper tugs, pulls, growls, snaps, and Jack still holds on. "Gabe, please. Don't go, just tell me what's going on," He pleads in that sickly sweet voice the cameras still love so much. Reaper shakes his head. Doesn't even trust his own voice. "Gabriel... Please. I want to know what's wrong. I want to know what happened." Reaper violently shakes his head, desperately trying to get away. 

Jack catches a flash of his crimson eyes, the black tears still threatening to spill, and his grip loosens just enough for Reaper to escape. But he keeps his wits about him this time, and follows closely. Reaper wants to try to shake him off, but there's clearly no point. Instead, he just ends up back in the room he completely destroyed the first day he was here. Jack is unexpectedly quiet about it. A gasp or a curse or something was what Reaper expected but...guess not after seeing the corpse show.

Jack tries to step closer. "Get away," He growled, monstrous voice echoing vibrantly clear in the mostly-empty room. Someone had been around to start cleaning but the couch was still overturned, claw marks still littered the wall, a shard of glass remained here and there in the harder to reach places. Reaper ducked and balled himself up underneath the couch, as if that would hide him from Jack. He hopes that Blonde Boy Wonder will just take the fucking hint already and get out while he still could. Apparently he refuses to see it, because Jack is crawling in right alongside him, softly grunting as he cuts himself on a shard of glass. "Gabe."

"Out."

"No, Gabriel, tell me what's going on. I need to know what's wrong to help you."

"There's no fucking help for me, Jack! There hasn't been any goddamn help for me for fucking years! You saw what the fuck I have to do to stay alive! I can't... I can't..." With shallow, shuddering breaths, Reaper curled tighter around himself until he collapsed into smoke again. Jack sagged against the suffocating cushions of the couch, unsure now of what to do. He gingerly ran his fingers through the curdling smoke at an attempt to calm it. It didn't stop its angry swirling, but it slowed. A small tendril wrapped around Jack's hand then quickly retreated, as if it was just shocked. Jack didn't know how to respond. He barely knew what to think. All he could think was that there had to be some kind of rational explanation for this. He leaned back on his legs, chewing the inside of his cheek as he carefully chose each word. "Gabe? Gabe... Talk to me. I'm not mad. I'm just worried about you. Please."

The black cloud slowly drifted, enveloping Jack in a thin veil. Then a solid weight pressed into his back. Arms slid around his waist, holding him without any intention of letting go. "Gabe, c'mon," Jack begged in a soft voice, "Tell me what's wrong." Reaper huffed, burying his face in Jack's shoulder. He wishes he didn't have to think about this. Wishes he hadn't fucked up so close to the end. The remnants of claws dig into Jack's sides, unwilling to release him from the cage they made. "Jack..." It's less than a sound that's being muffled by the heavy cloth on Jack's shoulder. What should he say? The truth? A lie? Some cruel twist of both?

Reaper heaves out a heavy breath. It sounds tired, decades of exhaustion conveyed in a single exhale. Jack’s already seen what he does to the people he kills, so it’s not like whatever he says is going to hurt him any more. "I didn't want you to see this, Jack. I didn't want you to know about the...the _monster_ I'll become." Jack squeezes one of Reaper's hands, opens his mouth with the intent to say something, and is quickly shushed with a look. "I had to kill them. To..." Reaper almost gags. Like he hasn't had to explain this to several mortified faces already. "To survive." Jack shifts, barely able to move under the claustrophobic space of the couch and yet still trying to face Reaper as he starts to stutter, "G-Gabe, how long has this been going on? Baby, tell me, I-I'm sure I can-"

"Fourteen years from now, Jackie." 

The simple sentence hits like a freight train. It can't be right. He had to have heard wrong. There was no way… That kind of thing was just impossible! "O-okay, so fourteen years ago you had an accident or something, fine, then-"

"Jack," growls Reaper in warning. "You aren't that stupid." He's really not. He understands exactly what's being said. He just can't quite wrap his head around it. What reason would there be for him to come back? Surely he was happy enough in his own right. "But... How can you be here? There's just... There's no way. No way to... To do that. This. Whatever." Reaper decides to stay quiet a moment more. He nuzzles into Jack's neck, catalogues each little thing he can remember about him so he doesn't have to miss him so much when he goes back. "What happened?"

"A fire. Bombs. In the Zurich HQ. Ever heard of Talon?"

"It's come up a few times. Nothing major though, other than some little things from you and Gérard." Reaper bites back a sarcastic huff and settles for an unamused sigh. "Nothing major. That's just how they do things." More black tears gather in the corner of his eyes as Reaper presses himself more firmly into Jack's backside. "I remember the flames and smoke. Looked like they were dancing on all the graves they made that day. Swallowed the whole thing until it turned into ash and rock. Everything burned, Jackie. Every _one_ burned." It was difficult to faze a man like Jack Morrison, a man who watched most of his squad die one after another in the crisis, and even more men die to horrific seizures and neurotic episodes before even that. This somehow pushed the boundary further than it had ever gone before. "I don't... I don't get it. What happened? Why come back?" 

"A lot of things happened, Jack. Too many to count.” Reaper sighed, heavy with the burden of blood and death seated on his back. “I wanted to see you. Before everything happened." Jack contemplates the commentary. He has a need growing in his gut that craves satisfaction. "What happened?" It's said simply, almost like asking about everyday weather, and not the fate of him and his entire organization in a decade and a half. Reaper didn't even care. He was going to let it all spill. This was the only chance he had, and it would fucking count. 

"Talon. They didn't like how we just let the world be after the omnics were shut down. They thrive on chaos, and without the crisis going on, they needed us out of the way to do anything substantial. They're here. In Blackwatch, in Overwatch, the UN, all of it. They just wanted you out of the way at first but after Moira was tossed out on her ass for all the human experimenting she did, she gave them a new objective. They made me hate you. Made me think things were there that weren't real. It got bad, Jackie. And it was hell.” The man shuddered, arms squeezing around Jack’s waist just this side of painful. “I remember going to bed at night, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, then wake up in the morning and just go right back to assuming everything was your fault. If you knew me as I am, Jack..." Reaper let out a pitiful dry sob. "You'd fucking hate me, Jackie. You’d rather kill me than be here." So much to take in. Jack's not even sure he understands it completely. But perhaps it's enough. 

"The agents, then... Those were Talon, right?" He feels Reaper nod his head against his shoulder. Though it's awkward under the couch, Jack twists and wraps his arms around Reaper's neck to keep him held close. "Don't say I'd hate you, Gabe. I love you. It doesn't matter what you do, who you are. Told you once already. I'll follow you to hell and back." The wraith trembles slightly under the weight of Jack's words. Once upon a time, he hated how the speeches seemed to just pander to whoever needed an ass-kissing, but now it actually felt...empowering. "Let me prove it to you. I'll help you get rid of the Talon corruption. We'll double up and take them out just like we did with the omnics. They won’t know what hit them."

 _No!_ Reaper should be screaming, _You don't know what they can do! If they know you're onto them, they'll come after you too! You're_ not _worth it!_

But the weight that seems to lift with those words… Reaper nods, burrowing into the warm cavity Jack's body has made. He feels better like this. He feels whole. Something he hasn't felt since before the Crisis. Tears stream down his face again, but it's not because of fear and distress; they fall because Reaper feels happiness in a way he had long since forgotten. It's almost painful. But God does he miss it.

“Gabe… Look at me, please.” And he does, unnaturally saturated crimson eyes, dissolving skin and all. Jack looks at everything, takes it in. Because if he can help it, this is the last time he’ll ever let Gabe feel so awful. “I love you. Like this or however you looked before. Okay?” Reaper nods, pushing his head right back under Jack’s chin. “I want to hear it back. If you mean it, say it.” 

“I love you,” Reaper responds immediately. “I love you, Jackie, I love you so much, I’m so sorry I ever let anything get between me and you. Please, Jackie, forgive me, I’m such a fucking idiot, shouldn’t have ever let you go. I love you, _mi sol, mi corazon, mi luna,_ ” He babbles, and he keeps doing it until Jack kisses him silent. “Gabe, I love you too. I won’t let this hurt you. I won’t let you feel this way.” And, like the fool he is, Reaper believes it, sinking into the tight embrace he’d forgotten so many years ago.

 

\----------------

Morning of the Second Day - 15 Hours Remaining 2085

 

“Well, well, ain’t you a bright ray of black sunshine.” Gabriel easily flipped the younger man off without missing a beat. He still wore the soldier’s jacket, uncaring of whether the vigilante would want it or not when he returned, but was otherwise still clothed in his usual attire. “Fuck off, cowboy. I’ve been waiting for the past twenty years to get a good night’s sleep, and I’m gonna be happy about it if I damn well please,” Gabe shot back, grinning like an absolute maniac. McCree shrugged nonchalantly, then handed over a prepared cup of coffee. “Black like your damn soul,” he jokes as Gabriel takes the warm mug. “Jesse, this is white as fuck, didn’t you think I wanted some coffee with this sugar?” McCree hid his mirth in his own coffee, though it didn’t do well; as soon as he pulled away from the steaming mug, he was given a rough punch on his shoulder.

Gabe looked down at the white abomination for a moment, perhaps steeling himself for the instant tooth-rot, but the moment he sipped at it, it glided like heaven over his palate. Though he’s never been one for sweet things, Angela was definitely right - he hadn’t really eaten anything since being taken against his will and given half-decent hospitality, so the sugar and milk and whatever other cavity-inducing crap McCree dumped in it should at least help him heal up the rest of the way. Apparently there were still a few unbroken bones in his body from Tokyo. “So, uh… Any reason you got Jack’s clothes on?” McCree asked after a moment of standing and drinking coffee. “Nope. Felt like it.” 

“Uh-huh. And you don’t think he’ll be wantin’ it back?”

“Nah, he’ll come get it sooner or later. Counting on it, actually.” McCree had to roll his eyes. Even then, his commander was an absolute degenerate, worse than the cowboy himself. “That’s disgustin’, boss.”

“Don’t I know it. I had to spend an hour in the fucking shower just to-”

“ _And_ that’s all I’ll be partakin’ in in this conversation!” McCree practically shouted as he turned on his heel. The Blackwatch commander almost laughed out loud as McCree retreated as though he was a child seeing his parents kiss. To be fair, that was almost what it was; just aged up by about twenty years. “I’ll tell you all about Jack’s collection of butt plugs later!” Gabe shouts down the hall on impulse. He thinks he hears some kind of southern twang yelling back “Do you fuckin’ mind?!” Gabe snorts and shakes his head. It’s somehow gotten easier to make Jesse run off. 

Speaking of running off, he’d come to try to find the soldier, and he hadn’t yet caught sight of him even though he’d been around the base a few times now. There still seemed to be a bit of a shortage of personnel from the forced retreat from the base, so Gabe hadn’t gotten the chance to ask anybody if they’d seen Jack. Surely he wouldn’t have left. Not without this dumbass jacket he seemed to like so much.

One more round through the base certainly couldn’t hurt. 

\-----

The shooting range had been empty the past few rounds Gabriel had been through, but now he could hear the triple shots of a long-range pulse rifle. That didn’t mean much on its own, though so far, he hadn’t seen or heard of anyone else who used such a standard military weapon. “You coming in or what?” The gravelly voice was extremely clear, free of the static that came when he wore the visor. With a roll of his eyes, Gabriel strolled up to the resting vigilante, who had his gun hanging in his grip while he waited on the younger man. The visor sat on a small table against the wall by its owner, largely forgotten. It gave Gabe the chance to really look at the soldier.

The night before, the visor had been taken off, but the whole room was so dark that Gabriel hadn’t been able to make out any details he couldn’t feel with his lips. Now, in the harsh white light of the range, he could see everything the soldier had tried to hide. His eyes were a muted blue, not nearly as bright as they were when he was young. The scars pulling at his mouth extended up, making Soldier: 76 look, for all intents and purposes, like a giant cat’s favorite plaything. They’re obviously battle scars of some sort, but giving them some kind of cutesie comparison made it easier to think about.

“Well?”

“Well what, _gringo_?”

“Well what are you doing here?” Gabe shrugged. Other than the jacket, he really didn’t have a reason to seek out the soldier. But he’d perhaps been...fantasizing a little too much since the night before. His thoughts raced with every cliche porn plot in the book, but with him on his knees or his back and Jack (Soldier: 76 specifically) with his cock stuck deep into one of Gabriel’s holes. It was probably something extremely inappropriate, given the circumstances they were in, yet Gabe couldn’t help wanting it. 

Two options made themselves glaringly clear in Gabe’s mind at that point. The first - the responsible decision - would be to say he was just walking through and then ask about the guns. Gabe was desperate, but he wasn’t going to waste Soldier’s time with a ‘nothing’, that was for dumbass teenagers who couldn’t face up to their own disgusting need. Though it’s not like he wasn’t already wearing the soldier’s clothes… Irresponsibility it is. “Was looking for you,” Gabriel replies haughtily, slowly stepping backwards towards what was hopefully a closet. If not? Oh well. Soldier, predictably, follows him step for step. “Why? Thought you were satisfied last night.” So he was interested in playing this game. Or he was thick enough in the head to be curious. Either way was good enough.

“Yeah, you could say I was satisfied. But I woke up this morning feeling a little...bothered.” Soldier huffed and rubbed a hand down the side of his face. Give Gabriel an inch, and he’d take half the fucking world, as always. “You’re an absolute degenerate, Gabe,” he says instead. The younger man grins anyway. As soon as the little names come out, he knows he has exactly what he wants. “Could you not just rub it out? Get yourself off for once,” Soldier lightly chides. He was smiling despite the fact, crowding Gabe against the wall, soon nosing into his neck. The process was so easy now that they had done it once. 

Soldier left the pulse rifle leaning against the wall, then yanked the door to the closet open and pushed Gabriel inside. “You’re insatiable,” Soldier scolds, still smiling in spite of it. He isn’t more than a few inches from Gabriel as he shuts the door behind them. “Think you can handle round two, _viejo_?” Gabe chuckles until Soldier roughly grabs him by the ass and practically hurls him against the wall. His breathy laughing devolves into wanton moans as 76 bites hickeys onto his neck and licks along his jaw. 

“Mmf, c’mon Jackie, gimme that cock, need it baby, _fuck_ -” Gabriel is dropped suddenly, just barely having enough brain function to get his legs under him before he meets the floor. “You want my cock, baby?” Soldier husks. He pushes Gabe to his knees, staring down with a fond expression. “You want it?”

“Fuck yeah,” Gabriel answers immediately, lapping at the growing bulge in the soldier’s pants. Soldier grimaces at the wet patch the man is putting there. “I don’t care how kinky you are, Gabe,” he hisses, taking a grip in the short curls, “I don’t want a public advertisement that we’re fucking.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “To be fair, we’re not.” That earned him a sharp yank on his hair, though it wasn’t much of a punishment to feel the arousal shoot through him at the rough treatment. Gabe moaned and nuzzled between Soldier’s thighs, where he could feel the man’s thickening cock. 

76 wrestled open the fly of his pants and yanked his dick out, smearing the beading precum on Gabe’s cheek. “Feel like using your mouth? Then use it _right_ ,” he playfully growled. Gabriel seems hesitant, playing up the shy virgin act with soft licks to the hard shaft, gentle sucks on his head, acting like he hadn’t taken the deepest dicking of his life the night before.

 

With a cock of his eyebrow, Gabriel tilted his head back, and swallowed. Soldier watched the way his throat bobbed and wondered if this much sex was okay for his health, especially since he was almost ready for round _three_. “You are a goddamn slut,” 76 breathes out, palming his face as a blush creeps onto his pale skin. Gabriel just grins that devilish grin and says, “It’s not my fault you can’t accept my status as sex god.” Soldier snorts. “Sex god” didn’t come close to what Gabe was.

The younger man looked away, suddenly appearing sheepish and nervous. Well, maybe not quite so timid; nevertheless, it was strange behavior. “There was a legitimate reason I came to talk to you.” Soldier tilted his head, studying Gabriel. They had been on good terms since the mission, so it couldn’t have been anything since then. Unless he’s somehow crossed a line he didn’t see, in which case- “Hey, white boy,” Gabe half-shouts. “Get out of your head. It’s nothing you did.” 76 shakes his head, nods, then shakes his head again. He’s trying to clear his mind to be able to think about whatever Gabe wants to tell him. “Alright, tell me,” Soldier demanded impatiently when Gabriel didn’t get on with it.

Gabe waved his hand as he said, “It’s probably nothing. But, if there’s anything to learn from the time I’ve been alive and damn near killed, it’s that ‘probably nothing’ doesn’t mean shit. So. Tokyo.” Soldier nodded slowly. He remained quiet while he waited for the other man to continue, but after a moment, he couldn’t help blurting, “What about it?” Gabe seemed to hunch his shoulders for a moment, looking everywhere but at Soldier: 76. “While you were off, doing your thing, me and the bot got attacked. The bot took off after a sniper, and then-”

“Doomfist,” Soldier snarled. His blood boiled with the very thought of the man hurting Gabriel the way he had. “Right. He uh… He said something to me,” Gabe reluctantly muttered. He felt cornered, being stared at by the Soldier in such a small room with his back to the wall. Claustrophobic. But it wasn’t like he could go out and say it for everyone else to hear, too. They’d probably think he was mad. “What did he say?” the soldier growled, crowding Gabriel against the wall, “What the fuck did he say to you?” Gabe pushed against Soldier’s chest to achieve some amount of space between his head and his...head. Being introduced to the wonders of bottoming during sex made the possessive gesture force all of Gabe’s blood south, nevermind the fact that he just got off less than five minutes ago. “Calm down, Jackie,” he placated, gently pushing the white-haired man to arm’s length. “He said that they weren’t there for Shimada. He said that they were there for me.” 

Gabriel expected something like a hissed curse or a surprised look, at the least. But instead, Soldier breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s not what he said,” the vigilante said easily, “Trust me. Talon doesn’t know you’re here.” Gabe blinks a few times. He’s being brushed off like an ignorant child! Jack wasn’t supposed to treat him like that. The UN did that all day, but not Jack. He was supposed to back him up, to support him when he tries to make a point. That’s why he’d gone to Soldier before anyone else. “W-wait, wait, wait,” Gabe almost yells, hands out to try to keep the soldier away. He starts again, slowly, “I tell you that someone from Talon - the people who went to the trouble to set up a fake yakuza meeting to _supposedly_ capture Shimada - said to my face that they came for _me_ , and you brush it off?” Gabe gestures emphatically as he speaks, the same way he always does when he gets angry and agitated. 

The soldier pushed open the door to the closet, scoffing at the spluttering man behind him. “Doomfist and Talon don’t know you’re here, Gabriel. That’s the _end_ of it,” Soldier barked, “Leave it alone.” 

“Forgive me if I don’t fucking understand your dumbass logic, _pendejo_ , but it doesn’t matter if they know I’m here or not!” Gabriel keeps right on the man’s heels, _this_ close to pushing him into the shooting range for target practice. “The fact that someone said that to _me_ should be a little fucking concerning, shouldn’t it?!”

“Gabriel, that’s enough!” Gabe stops immediately. His eyelid twitches as the two men stare at each other. The kind of rage he feels towards Soldier: 76 in this moment is not unlike the kind he felt towards the omnics in the crisis. All he wants to do is watch this man burn, rot, and split apart like rotten fruit. His hands tremble ever so slightly as he slides the dumb fucking jacket off his shoulders - who cares if he has to walk around this base half-naked? It falls to the floor with a soft _whush_. “I’ll see you when it’s time to put me back where I need to go,” Gabriel mutters under his breath. He turns on his heel and strides out of the shooting range, head bowed slightly as he fights to contain his fury.


End file.
